Anniversaries
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: May 2, 1998. As the final battle draws to an end, two unlikely people form an unlikely friendship.
1. May 2, 1998

Here's the new story I've been promising! If anyone's read _One Day_ by David Nicholls, then you'll understand what I'm doing here. Each chapter will be the same date but a year apart (hence the name of the story!) And for those of you who have read the book, this will not _be_ the book. I just like the concept.

Also, I own nothing! Hope you enjoy!

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><p>May 2, 1998<br>Everyone in the wizarding world knew the story of the final stand between Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and Lord Voldemort. They knew good would triumph over evil; it was the way things were meant to be. That night, as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry burned around them, Harry and He Who Must Not Be Named stood with wands drawn and spells flying. Harry came out victorious, ensuring peace for their world. It was a story people would tell for generations.

But their story was one that went untold. It was a story of rivalries and hatred past. It would be a story to demonstrate the coming of a new time for the wizarding world. Prejudice could, in fact, be erased and love found in an old enemy.

The Great Hall was a stifling place. Bodies lay in rows as Madame Pomphrey and other able-bodied fighters tended to the wounded. The dead were moved to a quieter place to allow friends and families a more proper place to mourn. A family of three sat huddled in a far corner of the large room, away from the rest of fighters for the light. They were the Malfoy family, and public enemy number one in the eyes of most. They fought for the dark; Lucius Malfoy at Voldemort's right hand for decades. Draco, Lucius and Narcissa's son, had been forced into service by the cruel dictator on the heels of his father's failure.

A thin brunette walked by the family without seeing them. She walked with her head cast down. Her feet shuffled as if she were too exhausted to fully lift them to take a step. Her clothes were dirty and torn from a year on the run and the final battle. Draco watched as she exited the Great Hall alone and stood to follow her, ignoring the questioning glances he received from his parents. He passed through the entrance hall unnoticed by those who were recovering bodies, and slipped through the front doors. The night had grown chilly and stars dotted the blackened sky. At the bottom of the steps sat Hermione Granger with her head cradled in her hands. When he got closer, he heard the sniffles of stifled sobs. He knew she had lost many friends, knew too many good people had died over something so senseless as blood purity.

"Hi," he said softly, taking a seat beside her.

"Go away, Malfoy," she muttered, never looking up.

"I'm sorry, Granger," he murmured. They sat in silence as they listened to the sounds coming from the Forbidden Forest. The deep, wooded area had once terrified them both, but the things they had witnessed in the last year seemed to impugn those fears. They had seen torture and death, known both physical and emotional pain. A few centaurs, acromantulas, and a half giant were the least of their worries.

"What is it you're sorry for?" Hermione wondered, using the back of her dirty sleeve to wipe her eyes.

Draco let out a long sigh. "Everything," he replied, hanging his head. "Everything, Granger. Everything I've said, everything I've done, everything I didn't do. I'm sorry for what happened to you, you know, with my aunt. I thought about stopping her, really I did. But then the cowardly part took over again and I kept my mouth shut."

Hermione nodded as she took in his admittances. "Thank you, Draco," she said. "I'm sorry too."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for?" he asked.

A wry smile twitched up the corners of Hermione's lips. "Remember that time in third year when I slapped you? I'm sorry for that," she told him. Draco held a hand to his left cheek as he remembered that day. He'd been cruel and merciless in his hatred of Hagrid, and he told her that. "It seems silly now, doesn't it."

"All the fights we used to get into?" he guessed. Hermione nodded as she stared out at the broken front gates. "Yeah, it does."

Once more they lapsed into silence. Draco rose from the bottom step and stretched out his back. He took three steps forward before looking back at her. "You coming?" he asked.

For the first time, Hermione looked her Draco. Her brows furrowed in confusion. He was acting uncharacteristically kind, which frightened her. "Where?" she wanted to know before she stood.

"The lake," he decided on the spot.

Hermione rose, brushing off the seat of her pants out of habit. "Planning to push the mudblood in?" she inquired, though she walked with him.

"You should know I don't think of you, or any muggleborns, that way anymore," he stated as they strolled around the castle grounds until they reached the Black Lake.

It wasn't until they were seated along the bank that Hermione spoke. "Only you would show up to a battle in business attire," she remarked.

"All my good denims were in the laundry," Draco sarcastically replied. "You know, it's a really nice night tonight if you can forget what's happened here."

"I'm not sure I can ever forget," Hermione declared, the humor gone from her voice.

"I reckon I'll have plenty of time in Azkaban to relive each and every second of it," Draco added mournfully. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I'd just done things a bit differently - not teased you and your friends, not thought I was so high and mighty - maybe I would have been able to avoid joining him. Then again, maybe I wouldn't have. He was going to kill my parents if I didn't. I love my mother more than anything, and even though I hate my father for things he's done I didn't want to see him dead either. I wanted to save them. I guess I thought I was finally being brave, but once the task was presented to me, I knew I couldn't do it."

"That doesn't make you a coward, Draco," Hermione said, softly resting a hand on his right arm. "You've got a conscience though."

He considered what she said. Perhaps Hermione Granger was right. It would be nice to, just once, not feel like he'd done something for purely selfish reasons. His eyes closed momentarily to calm his overactive mind. When he opened them, Hermione was lying on her back with her eyes closed beside him. He shifted until his body was flat on the ground, and then he too fell asleep.


	2. May 2, 1999

May 2, 1999  
>Draco sat before the Wizengamot awaiting his sentence. His was the last of the Death Eater trials. His mother and father had already been tried; his father receiving six months in Azkaban and his mother three months' house arrest. For two days, he listened to the testimony of his classmates and professors. Most spoke of a cruel boy who hated the impure and wouldn't think twice before cursing them. Most blamed him for the death of their beloved headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. They all blamed him for the battle that ensued at the end of his sixth year after he let Death Eaters into the school.<p>

The trial seemed bleak. Each word was one step closer to a life in Azkaban prison. And then the Golden Trio took the stand. Ron Weasley was called first. He begrudgingly answered the questions asked by the Wizengamot. He testified to Draco's actions at Malfoy Manor, telling the court that he refused to name them. "He may have saved our lives," he concluded.

Hermione was next. The questions asked of her were much the same as the ones asked of Ron. She also explained that he had stopped his friends from killing them in the Room of Requirement. Draco listened in awe at her vehement defense of his actions. Her eyes remained locked on his as she spoke, as if speaking only to him. He let a small smile touch his lips, one she immediately returned.

Finally, Harry Potter was called to the stand. His testimony detailed the night of Dumbledore's death. Harry told the court that he had seen Draco lower his wand before Snape arrived to finish the task. He testified to Severus Snape's memories of Dumbledore telling him that Draco was not to commit the crime. "Dumbledore had great respect for his students," Harry said. "It was always his goal to see that each and every one of us remained safe. And I think he did for that Draco."

When Harry stepped down to return to his seat, Draco nodded his gratitude and appreciation for the boy who was his antithesis. Harry returned the nod and took his seat beside his friends. As the last witness, his words would be the freshest in the governors' minds. Draco prayed it would work in his favor.

For a year, he had been under house arrest. As his trial drew closer, his fear of Azkaban increased. He'd seen what the place had done to his father, returning the once regal-looking man older and paler, a former shell of himself. Lucius had become jumpy and paranoid, claiming the Dementors still followed his every step. With the Dementors gone, Azkaban would reek less havoc on the inmates. But it was still not a fate Draco wanted.

The Wizengamot took a ten minute recess to discuss their verdict. Draco watched as each member filed out of the court before turning his attention to the trio behind him. They sat close together, heads almost touching, as they spoke in hushed tones. He wondered what it was they said to each other. He wondered what Potter and Weasley said to turn Hermione's face so red with anger. He wondered why, when she looked at him, her scowl disappeared.

The court reconvened, putting an end to all conversation. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, remained standing and asked Draco to do the same. "Mr. Malfoy," he began, "it is always a difficult task to sentence someone as young as yourself. War crimes are a serious matter, and many of my colleagues would like to find you guilty of the ones you've been charged. Thankfully, for your sake, there are enough people who do not wish to see you sent to Azkaban. It is this court's ruling that you will remain under house arrest for the next three months. At the end of that time, you will remain on probation until this time next year. Court is adjourned."

The chains linking Draco's hands together faded away once the Minister stopped speaking. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rubbed his wrists. The courtroom began to empty out, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the tail end of the line. But Hermione hung back.

"Thank you," he told her when she reached him.

Hermione nodded. "I'm glad things worked out for you," she replied. They stood together awkwardly. Draco stared at his feet while Hermione's brown eyes darted around the room.

"So, um, that night by the lake," he broached the subject nervously, "why did you leave?"

Hermione chewed the inside of her lip. "If you had woken up first, would you have stayed?" she countered.

"No, probably not," he replied with a chuckle. Hermione shot him a look as if to say "there you go." "I thought about that night a lot," he continued. "I've had a good amount of time to think this last year with the house arrest and everything."

"What exactly did you think about?" Hermione couldn't help but wonder.

"You," he said. "I wondered how it could be so easy to talk to my enemy. I wondered why I disliked you so much, you know, if maybe there was a reason beyond blood status. I wondered what you were doing, what your friends were doing."

"My, that is a lot of thinking," she commented. The look he gave her prompted her to continue. "Well, I found my parents. I sent them to Australia before the war began. It took a long while to convince them that what I'd done was to protect them. They returned to England just last month.

"Harry and Ron are in Auror training," she continued. "I was invited as well, but I wanted to take my N.E.W.T.s. A desk job seems like a nice idea after all we've been through."

"That does," he agreed. Lucius had always assured him that once his education was completed, he would take over his father's position as head of Malfoy, Incorporated. It was a prospect Draco had dreaded since he was eleven. "I wonder if I'll be allowed to take them too. It would be nice to have them."

"Perhaps, once you've finished your sentence," Hermione agreed. An Auror entered the courtroom then to escort Draco back to Malfoy Manor. Just as he began to lead the younger man away, Hermione stopped them for a moment. "When you've finished your probation, I'll treat you to lunch. We can discuss the tests then."

"Until then, Hermione." And then he was gone.


	3. May 2, 2000

This story has been so much fun to write that I can't stop. I've written like four chapters in the last three days. So, I hope you're all interested in reading them!

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><p>May 2, 2000<br>Hermione sat at an outdoor table at a small cafe in Diagon Alley. The umbrella above blocked out the sun just well enough for her to see the words on the page of the book she read while waiting for her lunch guest. The day before, Draco owled to tell her he would be meeting with Kingsley to discuss the end of his probation. If all went well, he would meet her at half past one for lunch. Ten more minutes and he would be there. Twenty more and he would be late. Thirty more and Hermione would go home.

A shadow loomed over the table and Hermione put the book down. Glancing up, she smiled at the blond above her. "Things went well, then," she said as he took a seat across from her.

"You're looking at a free man, Granger," he replied proudly.

"That's wonderful," Hermione beamed. They placed their orders and received their drinks before the conversation continued. "So, what's your plan now?"

Draco shrugged and leaned back in his seat. The smile he wore told the world that he was enjoying his first hour of freedom. "Well, right now I intend to have lunch, maybe talk to you while I do that," he replied. "Then I plan to wander around Diagon Alley for awhile. That was part of my probation, no trips to the Alley or Hogsmeade or any other magical shopping village my mind could conjure. And then, maybe if you're nice to me, I'll buy you a drink later."

Hermione returned his smirk. "What makes you think I'm spending the entire day with you?"

Draco considered her question for a moment. It was true that she had only invited him to lunch. He had looked forward to it since the day of his trial. As much as he told himself he only anticipated the day because it meant the end of his probation, a part of him also wanted to see a familiar, friendly face again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on top of the table. "Because you will," he replied confidently. "Part of you still feels bad for me. You'd do anything to quell that feeling."

Copying his posture, Hermione leaned forward. "And why would I feel bad for you?" she inquired. "You're Draco Malfoy. Everything you've ever wanted was handed to you on a silver platter. And then you screwed up, got caught, got punished. It's the way the world works. I don't feel bad for people who are punished by society for their misdeeds." And then she sat back once more, feeling that she had the upper hand.

Her answer was one he hadn't expected. Where was the bleeding heart Gryffindor he thought she was? "Perhaps you're right," he decided, letting the issue go for the time being. "Perhaps no one should feel sorry for me." He let his head fall, blond fringe curtaining over his eyes. He was the picture of a pathetic man, and he hoped she would fall for it.

Across from him, Hermione snorted and sat back in her chair. "That's really not going to work on me, Draco," she told him with a good humored smile. "However, I do respect you for the way you've handled the situation."

"Thanks, Granger," he replied as their meals arrived. As they ate discussion turned to their upcoming tests. Both had had plenty of time to study and prepare, and made arrangements to sit their N.E.W.T.s together. "So, what now?" he asked when the finished and the bill was paid.

"I thought I'd take a casual stroll through the Alley, maybe go for a drink later," she decided breezily. "You?"

Draco stared at her for a moment as she continued on without him. Had that been her way of accepting his previous offer to join him? Hermione turned to face him with a wry smile on her lips. "You know that's what I'm doing," he reminded her. In a few easy strides, they were side by side.

Hermione looped her arm through his. "Then what are we waiting for, Draco?" she asked in a pleasant tone.

And so they spent their afternoon shopping. He watched as she browsed Flourish and Blotts bookshop. She helped him pick out new robes at Madame Malkin's store. Not one insult was traded, not one unkind word exchanged as they wandered the alley. Hermione had been more than surprised when he suggested a visit to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Their visit did not go unnoticed by the twins, but they refrained from making a scene.

Draco had begun to feel a kinship toward the witch he once despised. Never in all his years would he have believed that Hermione Granger could be his friend. But that, it seemed, was exactly what she was. He wondered when that had happened as she stole a spoonful of his pumpkin ice cream. That she was comfortable enough to do so spoke volumes.

"I think I like yours better," she announced, going in for another taste.

"What's wrong with what you ordered?" he inquired, keeping his cup away from her. Hermione shrugged and handed him her cup. "What did you get? Chocolate fudge swirl?"

"Chocolate fudge _ripple_," she corrected. "And I don't really want a milkshake anymore. Trade with me?" Her eyes widened and her lips formed a small pout.

Draco found himself handing his cup over to the witch, shocked that he had done so. He watched as she took small spoonfuls of ice cream, licking the inner curve of the spoon as she did so. His eyes were trained on her as she ate. It wasn't until she looked at him that he finally tore his eyes away from her.

"What?" she asked, using her fingers to wipe at the corners of her lips.

Draco shrugged as they continued their walk towards the Leaky Cauldron. "I hate chocolate," he groused, handing the milkshake back to her. Hermione threw away the shake as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. Once they were seated, he asked her the one question that had plagued his mind over the last two years. "Do you think about it often?"

"Think about what?" Hermione inquired, though she knew exactly to what he was referring. He cocked his head to the side, clearly aware that she knew what he meant - the war. "All the time," she told him.

"Me too," he admitted solemnly.

"What was it like? Being on the other side?" she wondered, staring down into her butterbeer.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a topic he was not yet ready to discuss, but he had started the conversation. There was no backing out of it now. "Hell," was the only word he found that aptly described his time in the Dark Lord's service. "Absolute, unadulterated hell."

Hermione reached across the table and covered his hand. "It wasn't too great being on our side either."

He turned his hand over, grasping hers lightly. "I meant it when I told you how sorry I was," he said, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. That one night, after the battle was over and the good had triumphed, had irrevocably changed the relationship between the pair. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to prove how sorry I am, how much there is that I regret."

Hermione gave his hand a slight squeeze. "This seems like a pretty good start."


	4. May 2, 2001

I hope everyone's staying cool this weekend! It's already over 100 degrees in my area, which will melt the makeup right off your face. Short hair has never been more of a blessing than on a sweltering day.

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><p>May 2, 2001<br>There was no place in the world Hermione loved more than the Burrow. It was home to the Weasley family, and, over the years, a second home to Harry and herself. The summer following her second year at Hogwarts, it had become tradition to summer with the large, boisterous, loving family.

Privacy was a rarity in the overcrowded, misshapen home. Hermione always found her solace by the small pond beyond the orchard. The mail had come only minutes before, and in it was a letter from Draco. The envelope was addressed to her with no return address. The friendship that had formed between the pair remained a secret to both her loved ones and his.

After his release from probation and the completion of his exams, Draco decided the time had come to travel. With each new place he visited, Hermione received a letter and photographs detailing his time. She opened the envelope, anxious to find out where he was this week. Tuscany, she deduced, by looking at the moving photos he enclosed. Setting the pictures aside, she pulled out the letter. In his perfectly executed scrawl, he described everything - the villa, the town, the people he had met, the food eaten, and the yacht ride on the Mediterranean arranged by Blaise Zabini. His letters always seemed to end the same way - _I wish you were here. You'd love it._

Hermione sighed as she stuffed everything back into the envelope. The letter would be added to her collection. The inside lid of her trunk was plastered with photos from Italy, Spain, France, China, Vietnam, and Egypt. She longed to join him and see the world for herself, but reality held her back.

"Who is it you're always writing?" Blaise wondered as he and Draco lounged by the pool.

Draco set his letter aside and glanced at his friend. Blaise Zabini was a stark contrast to himself. He was tan where Draco was pale, black hair to his white blond, well toned muscles to his lanky form. Blaise was free to live his life outside the confines of pureblood society. His mother had always been too preoccupied with finding a husband that Blaise was oftentimes left on his own.

Draco had grown up with both a mother and father. Though the world saw Lucius and Narcissa as cold and unfeeling, Draco saw a different side. His parents were doting and catered to his every wish. Rarely was he without when the newest trends hit the market. His mother often hugged him, much to his own embarrassment. It wasn't until the Dark Lord's resurfacing that Lucius took a turn. He became harsher with his only son, losing his temper easily. More than once, Draco had been on the receiving end of his father's wand. The man he once idolized and dreamed of being had become something out of a nightmare.

"Draco?" Blaise inquired, raising one dark eyebrow suspiciously.

"What?" he replied, looking away as he felt his cheeks burn.

Blaise pointed to the parchment. "The letter?" he reminded his friend, chuckling at Draco's unease.

"Just a friend," he responded, hoping it would get Blaise off his back.

Blaise made a grab for it, but Draco was faster. He managed to keep the parchment away from Blaise until he gave up. "So, how long are you planning to continue this little sojourn of yours?" he inquired, settling back into his chair.

Draco shrugged and continued to write. "I figure as long as I'm moving my parents can't find me and the Greengrasses can't find me. And if they can't find me I don't have to marry their daughter."

Once more, Blaise shifted in his seat until his feet touched the concrete and he was perpendicular to Draco. "You're barmy, mate," he told his friend. "The Greengrass girls were the prettiest in the whole school. I would count myself lucky if I were in your shoes."

"Good, then you marry her," Draco groused. He finally set aside his letter, unable to concentrate on anything but the marriage arrangement his parents had set up after the war. For close to three years, they never said a word about it. Then, just before he announced his plans for a holiday, the bombshell was dropped. Before his twenty-fourth birthday, he would wed the youngest Greengrass daughter, Astoria. The beautiful blonde was two years his junior, and more vapid than her sister. Daphne Greengrass had been in his year at Hogwarts, and Draco only remembered the way she tagged along after Pansy Parkinson, as if she worshipped the ground upon which the pug-faced girl walked. It went without saying that Draco wanted nothing to do with any of them.

"She might not be as bad as you want her to be," Blaise cautioned. "Just because Daphne laughed like a hyena doesn't mean Astoria will too."

But Draco wouldn't be swayed. He didn't want to marry at all, much less have it arranged without his say. Picking up his parchment and quill once more, he excused himself and returned to the house. Spots danced in front of his eyes as he stepped out of the sun, spots that seemed to resemble a busy-haired Gryffindor. Shaking his head cleared his vision enough to finish his letter. The photos he planned to send were included in the envelope and sealed. Once the owl took the letter away, Draco sighed. He always wondered what she was doing when she received his letters and how long it took her to write him back. He wondered if she waited for his correspondence the way he did hers.

"Who are those pictures from?" Ron asked when he found Hermione by the pond.

She hadn't realized she had taken them out of the envelope again, and quickly stuffed them back in. "Just a friend," she replied, hoping she only sounded sullen in her head. Ron would never notice if it came out as anything but mumbled.

The tall redhead took a seat beside and looked out at the water. A warm breeze blew, rustling the leaves on the trees and sending ripples across the water's surface. One lone duck glided, occasionally dipping its head below to cool down. Hermione noticed not the duck but Ron's hand slowly creeping closer to her own. She considered moving it to her lap so he couldn't take it, but before she could make up her mind to do so, his fingers grasped hers.

In three years, one kiss had been exchanged. Hermione had been sure Ron had forgotten it not long after it happened. After all, the night they kissed was the same night he lost his brother. She hadn't held it against him that the relationship she hoped for never blossomed after the war. The question now was did she want a relationship with him?

Ron's hand tightened around hers as he smiled sheepishly. "Harry's proposed to Ginny," he informed her.

"I know," Hermione replied, looking out at the water again. The whole family knew the second it happened.

Ron let go of her hand and garnered her attention once more. "I'm sorry that I never did anything to show you how I felt about you after the war," he told her. His hand cupped her cheek, mashing a few curls between her face and his palm. "I figured out a long time ago that you're the only one I want to be with. I'm not proposing or anything, not yet, but I was hoping you would at least agree to be my girlfriend."


	5. May 2, 2002

May 2, 2002

The bright, spring sun beat down on the pair as they reclined on a large blanket. They lay head to feet, both propped up on their elbows as they talked. It had been two years since they had seen each other, spending the last year communicating only through letters.

"What was the best part?" Hermione asked, tossing a grape past Draco's head in an attempt to get it in his open mouth.

Draco chuckled, looking behind him to see where the grape fell. "You're rubbish at this game, Granger," he remarked, earning a withering glare from his companion. She tossed another grape, this time aiming for his forehead, and hit her target. "Okay, maybe you're _not_ so bad at it," he conceded.

"Now that you're done teasing me, will you answer my question?" she inquired, piquing one eyebrow.

Draco shrugged and leaned back, tipping his face up towards the sun. "There was no bad part," he told her in his typical nonchalant air. "Well, except for coming home," he added.

Hermione nodded knowingly. "That was always my least favorite part of a holiday as well," she replied.

He glanced up as she laid down on the blanket, wondering if he should tell her about Astoria Greengrass. The week after his return to England, dinner was arranged between the two families to acquaint the soon to be wed couple. Every preconception he had of Astoria turned out to be correct. Her voice was too high pitched, she flipped her hair too often, and her smile unnerved him.

"You dating anyone, Granger?" he asked casually.

Hermione continued to watch the clouds move through the sky. "Sort of," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. Just mere curiosity," he said, waving his hand about lazily. "It's not the weasel, is it?"

She sat upright, her spine ramrod straight, as she glared at him. "And what if it is?" she inquired. Draco sat up straighter, now placing his weight on his hands. He watched as she furiously cleaned up what was left of their picnic lunch, all without saying a word. She finished by jerking the blanket out from underneath him. "Why must you always ruin things, Malfoy?" she wondered.

Draco got to his feet and took hold of her arm as she balled up the blanket. It seemed to act as a barrier the closer they became. "What have I ruined?" he asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Everything," she sighed. "Why did you ask about Ron?"

"The better question is why didn't you tell me about him?" He truly felt hurt that she had never mentioned a relationship of any sort. It was hypocritical on his part to be as upset as he was, but she _chose_ Weasley. Theirs was a real relationship rather than a means to further Pureblood society.

"I didn't think you'd care," she replied, looking down at the blanket between them.

Draco took the blanket from her and folded it properly. "Of course I care," he stated. He just couldn't recall when he had started to care for and about Hermione Granger. Every day that he was away, he thought of her. Oftentimes, he wondered what she would make of the places he visited, and he truly wished she had joined him. "I care about you because we're friends," he added.

"Are we?" she wondered, taking the neatly folded blanket back from him. Draco's brow creased in confusion. "Are we really friends?"

"Of course we are. What else would we be?" he wondered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. For the life of him, he could not figure out what was bothering her.

"I don't know," she muttered, taking a seat on a nearby bench. He remained where he was as if unsure whether or not to follow her. "Don't you find it strange, given our history? How one night you just decide I'm not as bad as you believed for seven years?"

Breathing a heavy sigh, he finally sat down beside her. "We both know what we saw before and during the war," he spoke carefully. "After it, I...decided that all those stupid ideals my parents instilled in me were wrong. We weren't better than you because we have a longer magical lineage. I wanted to hate you for being better than me, and for so many years I did. And then that bloody war happened, and everything changed. _I_ changed, Hermione."

"I know you did," she replied softly, her voice just above a whisper.

He took hold of her hand, brushing his thumb along the back of it. "So then why do you doubt me?" he asked.

"Because you're you," she replied, smiling at him.

Draco stared out across the grass to the children's playground. His eyes were fixated on the swings as a little girl no older than six swung higher and higher, laughing as she did so. Brown curls blew in the soft breeze. When she smiled, she revealed two missing front teeth. Draco imagined that, if she had a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, she could be the childhood version of the woman beside him.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, breaking his concentration.

Draco turned to her and smiled. "I've never been on a playground," he shared, looking back across the way. He turned down her suggestion to go over, deciding he enjoyed merely watching it. "Maybe when I have a son, I'll buy some of those swings for him. My parents will probably insist I stay at the Manor after I marry, and the gardens are the perfect place for a playground."

"Getting married, are you?" she inquired, staring ahead to watch the children play.

Draco's hand tightened around hers, reminding her that he still held it. "No," he declared. "Not any time soon." It wasn't entirely a lie, he told himself. There had to be a way out of marrying Astoria, and he would find it. He wanted to marry someone with whom he would feel comfortable. He wanted to be loved for more than his blood status and the balance of his Gringott's vault. As Hermione lay her head on his shoulder, content to sit by his side, he knew she could be that girl.

"I'm an idiot," she thought she heard him mumble. She picked up her head, but his lips were set in a straight line. She asked him to repeat it, but instead he turned to face her. His free hand cupped her cheek, directing her closer and closer until their lips touched in a gentle, almost hesitant, kiss.

"I said," he said, after pulling away, "I'm an idiot."


	6. May 2, 2003

So, not a great morning today. Trains were delayed 30 minutes because someone reported a "suspicious" package at one of the stops. Turns out it was a bottle of cleaning solution. So, I was late for work because someone forgot their Windex. I should be thankful, shouldn't I, that it was just that and not something worse?

Someone in a previous review asked me where I live. I live in New Jersey, right across the river from New York City. Sorry I didn't answer that sooner!

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><p>May 2, 2003<br>Hermione watched the moving picture, stunned by what she saw. Malfoy was engaged. The front page of _The Daily Prophet_ was dedicated to Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass's upcoming nuptials. Anger consumed her senses as she read the announcement. Never, not once in all of his letters, did he mention that he was so much as seeing the youngest Greengrass. And now they were engaged.

"That's just disgusting," Ginny proclaimed, taking a seat beside Hermione. The redhead took the newspaper from Hermione's hands and studied the picture of the kissing couple. "I mean, really, who wants to see that?"

Hermione laughed to cover up the betrayal she felt. "Not me," she muttered.

"Hey, what are you doing reading the newspaper when you're supposed to help me into my dress?" Ginny inquired with a bright smile.

"What is this?" Draco demanded, throwing down the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet_ in front of his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy genteelly placed her fork on the right side of her plate, the customary signal that she was finished with her meal, and glanced at the newspaper. "It's your engagement notice," she told him calmly.

"What is it doing in the paper?" he asked through clenched, angry teeth.

The placid expression his mother usually wore flickered for a mere second before correcting itself. The Malfoy temper was legendary, and Narcissa was not keen on being on the receiving end of his fit.

"Society dictates-" but he didn't allow her to finish.

"I don't give a damn what society expects of me," he yelled, slamming his fist down on the polished table top. "This marriage is a sham, and you know it. Printing a story in the _Prophet_ does nothing to legitimize it."

"This union will be legitimate, dear," she replied, pretending not to understand his meaning.

Draco straightened his spine and glared at the blonde seated before him. "I will not marry her," he vowed. "There is nothing you or Father can do to make me marry her."

Before Narcissa could reply, he stormed out of the dining room. He wondered how he would break this to Hermione, knowing she would find out through the paper and not him. For the past year, he had tried to reconcile his feelings towards the woman who had become his best friend and the woman he was forced to marry. It was simple and clear - he wanted Hermione, not Astoria.

But he knew she remained with the weasel. Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy would never be allies, but he couldn't hate the redhead for obtaining the girl he himself wanted. He could be jealous, he could be angry, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted.

Draco knew where to find her, but hesitated to Apparate to Potter and the Weaslette's wedding ceremony. He knew the location, knew he would have no trouble getting to the Burrow. The main concern was her friends and how they would react to his presence. And then he formed his plan.

The reception was in full swing when Hermione stepped out of the tent for a bit of fresh air. Full from dinner and heady from too much champagne, the cool breeze the night offered was just what she needed. At first, she thought the spectre of white, wispy light in the form of a dragon was an illusion. Perhaps she was more drunk than she felt. But then it spoke in a voice she instantly recognized.

"Meet me around the front."

Without thinking, Hermione allowed her feet to carry her to his requested destination. "What are you doing here?" she hissed once she spotted him.

"I needed to see you," he replied, closing the distance between them.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she levelled him with narrowed eyes. "Congratulations," she said, though they both knew she didn't mean it. "How long?" she wanted to know.

Draco sighed. "Since I returned from my trip," he replied.

"Two years?" she exclaimed. "You've known for two years and never said anything? You _kissed_ me, Draco."

"And you're still with Weasley, despite that," he fired back. For a moment, he wondered where this anger came from, and how things had spiraled so out of control. Mentally, he counted to ten. "Look, I have no desire nor intention to marry Astoria," he said, more calmly this time. As he stepped forward, Hermione took a step back. Their dance continued, turning the pair in a circle before Draco stopped.

"Why did you come here?" Hermione wondered, dropping her defensively crossed arms to her sides.

When Draco moved in, Hermione did nothing to stop him. "Because I need my best friend to understand how I feel," he said, softly grasping her right hand. "I need you to know that I wasn't deliberately keeping this from you. Maybe I should have told you sooner. With your clever mind, I might already be free of this whole mess."

Hermione frowned; yet another person who wanted her only for her ability to solve problems. Try as she might, though, she couldn't force herself to walk away from him. They stood rooted to the spot, neither speaking, neither moving.

"It's an arranged marriage, isn't it," she finally said. Draco nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "That's not fair."

"No, it isn't," he agreed. He watched her briefly, mesmerized by the flush of her cheeks as the lowering sun hit them, the line of freckles that dotted her nose, the way her teeth toyed with her bottom lip. "I never thought about marriage before until this whole situation happened. I've never loved anyone. To be honest, I didn't think I _could_ love someone."

Taking hold of his arm, Hermione steered them to the two person swing in front of the house. She smoothed her pale yellow bridesmaid dress underneath her as she sat down. It afforded her enough of a distraction so that she wouldn't have to look at or speak to him.

"What's the worst that could happen if I don't marry her?" he wondered. Hermione's head snapped up and to her right to stare at him. "I don't need my parents' money. I could get a job and a flat, and then I could be completely done with their Pureblood society."

Hermione produced an unladylike snort, and quickly covered her mouth. "Sorry, just the idea of you working and living in some tiny flat is just funny," she replied. He could see the situation as she did, and it was laughable. But the stubborn part of him emerged, declaring that he could do it. Her laughter quickly subsided. "I believe you can do it," she told him, resting her hand on his forearm.


	7. May 2, 2004

May 2, 2004  
>Ron Weasley paced nervously in front of Hermione's door. Three times he had attempted to knock before his nerves got the better of him. It was their two year anniversary, and he intended to make it unforgettable. It wasn't until he heard the bubbling of laughter and two distinct voices - one of which was male - that he pounded on the door.<p>

"Just a second," he heard Hermione call out before she opened the door. The remains of her laughter lit her smile when she saw him. "Ron, hi. Come on in."

"Who's here?" he inquired, moving past her into the living room. But she didn't need to answer for he saw who it was that entertained his girlfriend - Malfoy. "What's he doing here?"

Hermione crossed the room and stood by his side, resting her hand on his forearm. "Draco lives in my building. We have tea together sometimes," she explained, hoping her calmness would transpose to him. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when a furious blush crept up Ron's neck until it reached his hairline. He said nothing as he left the living room for the kitchen.

"I should go," Draco decided, rising from the couch. Standing before her, he looked her over once and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Call me if you need anything."

Hermione allowed him to hug her goodbye before seeing him out. Closing the door, she leaned against it and rubbed her temples as she reminded herself to breathe. More and more, she and Ron had spent their time fighting, and she wondered if Draco would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Mustering the strength she needed for Round 2, she entered the kitchen to find Ron seated at her small table.

"Are the two of you friends?" Ron wondered, diverting his gaze from her. Quietly, she confirmed their friendship. "How long?"

"A few," Hermione cleared her throat, "A few years. Since the war ended."

Ron shook his head, locks of red hair swinging about from the effort. "How did I not know about this? He's been living near you for Merlin knows how long. How did I not know that?"

Hermione shrugged and took a seat across from him. Reaching across the small round table, she placed her hand over his larger one. "We don't see each other that often," she assured him. "Before he moved in here, it was maybe once every couple of years that we saw each other. Those letters a few years ago, the ones with the pictures, those were from him."

"And now that he lives here?" Ron pushed.

Hermione sighed. He was too calm, and the other shoe was bound to drop at any moment. "I don't know, Ron. He lives down the hall so we run into each other on occasion."

He rose from his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face, the crimson tinge receding as the seconds ticked by. Part of him longed for the days of blissful ignorance, but he knew things had been off between Hermione and himself for some time. The small box in his pocket, he believed, was the ticket to fixing things.

"I came here today to ask you something important," Ron stated, turning to face her. Taking a step forward, he hesitated. Was he supposed to get down on left knee or the right? He tried each before deciding on the right. Hermione's eyes widened; she knew exactly what he planned to do. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione was gobsmacked. Though she knew he was going to ask once he was down on one knee, she had no idea how to answer his question. And so the first thing out of her mouth was her answer. "I don't know."

Ron moved his other knee so it was on the floor and he sat back on his heels. "You don't...you don't know?"

"I don't know," she reiterated, still reeling from the shock of the proposal.

"Do you think you might know soon?" Ron asked, ashamed and embarrassed by his proposal gone awry. Again, she didn't know. Ron pulled himself to his feet and dejectedly stuffed the ring back into his trouser pocket. "I should go," he decided.

Hermione remained seated and nodded. She watched as he left the kitchen and she listened for the sound of the floo. Sure that he was gone, Hermione bolted out of her flat and ran down the hall to Draco's apartment.

"Why do you look like you've seen the ghost of Voldemort?" Draco joked when he opened the door to reveal a very white-faced Hermione.

"Ron proposed," she told him, not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter. It was only as a courtesy that she knocked in the first place. They had long since taken to letting themselves in without announcement or invitation.

"Is that bad?" Draco asked, shutting the door. He sat down and watched as she paced in a straight line in front of the coffee table.

She stopped and stared at him as if he had grown another head. "_You're_ questioning whether or not a proposal from Ron Weasley is bad?" she asked incredulously.

Draco continued to watch her walk back and forth. "Are you expecting me to give you a reason not to accept his proposal?" he inquired.

"I'd have thought you of all people would have a million reasons," she muttered. Finally, she stopped pacing and took a seat beside him. Without realizing it, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly.

Draco glanced down at their joined hands. "I of all people," he mumbled. "Listen, I'm the last person who should be giving anyone advice on engagements. I ran from mine because I couldn't bring myself to marry someone I didn't love. For that, my parents disowned me. At least if you turn down Weasley's proposal, you'll still have a family."

Hermione moved closer to him until she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I might not have you though," she said sadly.

"You're my best friend, Granger. I'm not going anywhere," he vowed.


	8. May 2, 2005

It's Friday! And it's not 100 degree here! The only thing that could make me happier is if it were time to go home. And if you all read my story. So, two things could make me happier. Hope you all enjoy the weekend and the chapter!

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><p>May 2, 2005<br>Hermione stretched out in her lounge chair, content to be away from England. The sun tanned her pale skin and the breeze off the water ruffled the stray curls that escaped her ponytail. It had been years since she had seen Australia, making the trip only to retrieve her parents. Now, though, it was a very long, very overdue vacation.

"How are you not completely burnt?"

Glancing up, Hermione smiled at her companion. She took the drink he offered and sipped the cold, fruity concoction slowly. "A little spell I know," she replied.

Draco took the chair beside her. "And you've been letting me use this disgusting muggle cream?" he guffawed.

"Don't worry," she replied, rolling her eyes. "There's a spell to get rid of that burn."

They sat quietly beside each other, sipping pina coladas and watching children build sandcastles. "So, what's the spell?" he asked, pressing the cold glass to his burnt shoulders.

Hermione flashed a cheeky smile. "I can't tell you," she stated, maintaining that air of superiority she had when there was knowledge to hold over someone else's head.

"Why?"

Hermione rose from her chair and adjusted her bathing suit. "Because I said so," she declared, taking off for the ocean.

Draco hung back, debating whether or not to join her. But then she turned and beckoned him to her, and he followed. He tip-toed into the water, the feeling of wet sand and bits of seashells strange beneath his feet. "I've never been in the ocean before," he admitted.

Hermione took his hand and pulled him farther along until she was hip deep. "This is as far as we'll go until you get comfortable."

The waves of crystal blue water smashed into the pair, bobbing them up and down with each ebb and flow of the tide. They moved out farther as Draco became more accustomed to the water, but they never let go of the other. The tide seemed to push them closer together until Draco held her around the waist. At the highest peak, the water rose to her shoulders, and Hermione leaned into Draco for support.

When her arms wrapped around his neck, Draco cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should get out," he suggested. "I'm getting a bit hungry."

Masking her disappointment, she followed Draco back up to the beach. They silently packed up the few belongings they brought and made their way back to the hotel. Draco shouldered her bag when they entered through the revolving door and strolled toward the elevator bay. "Room service or restaurant?" he asked as they made their way to their twelfth floor suite.

"Room service is fine. I can wash off the sand while we wait," she replied. Draco nodded as they exited the lift and walked to their room. Hermione went left into the bathroom while Draco continued straight on into the living area. She could hear him place their lunch order, thrilled that he knew exactly what she would want. As she ran the water for a shower, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened between them just minutes ago. He'd held her so close, in such a protective manner. If only she had leaned forward an inch further, their lips would have touched.

And that thought scared her. After a six month engagement to Ron, Hermione had no intentions of entering another relationship any time soon. Draco was the last person it would be wise to consider to fill that role. He was just as hopelessly unwilling to commit as she was, and she feared losing her best friend should things end poorly.

Stepping under the spray, she let the water wash away the tension caused by thinking of Draco with anything less than friendly connotations. After washing away the remains of the beach, and hopefully the strange emotions she felt towards Draco, she stepped out of the shower to dry off. By the time she exited the bathroom in a white robe, the food arrived.

"Smells good," she commented. Draco set up his lunch at the two person table near the kitchenette, but Hermione grabbed her plate and headed for the bedroom.

"Where are you going with that?" he inquired, panicked that she would make a mess.

"It's a holiday, Draco. Loosen up a bit," she retorted. Settling into the plush white pillows, she dug into her blueberry pancakes. After the third mouthful, she looked up to find Draco in the doorway with a plate of fish and chips in hand.

"You're strange, I hope you know," he told her.

"Are you joining me or giving your lunch a tour of the hotel?" she queried. Setting his plate down on the nightstand, he climbed onto the queen-sized bed and made himself comfortable. "This was my mum's favorite thing to do when we took trips when I was younger. Breakfast for lunch and eating in bed."

He offered her a chip. "It's been awhile since you've seen them. Maybe when we get back to England, you should visit them," he suggested.

Using her fork, she cut off a small mouthful and held it out to him. "They always ask about you," she said, tentatively broaching the subject of "them." She took another chip from his plate, slowly biting into it. "Even when I was with Ron, my mum always asked about you."

"What does she ask, is he gone yet?" Draco joked.

She simply shook her head in reply. Putting her plate on the nightstand, she twisted her body so she faced him. "You know they like you. Even after everything they heard about you, all of which true, might I add," she said softly. "But they like you because I like you."

"I know that," he replied nonchalantly. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he noticed the torn, slightly confused expression she wore. "Well, you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't like me."

Shaking her head, she got off the bed. The more distance between them the better, she decided. The courage so synonymous with Godric Gryffindor had left her in that moment. He didn't understand how she felt, and because of that, she refused to spell it out for him. Instead, she picked up her plate and left the room. Before exiting, though, she turned to him and said, "It's _Repello Solem_. That's how you stop sun burns."


	9. May 2, 2006

My belief in my inability to count was proven correct today. I finished writing this story (nowhere near done posting though!) and realized that I had two May 2, 2005's written. I found a chapter to delete so that everything lines up how I want it to. I may post the chapter once the story is finished.

Also, I've concluded that something on my resume convinced my boss I was clairvoyant. It's really the only explanation for her impatience when I follow the exact directions she gives me. I should have known that I needed to compare the number of titles against the number of paperbacks printed against the total number of titles. There must have also been something on my resume that made her think I'm good at math.

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><p>May 2, 2006<br>New York City was like nothing he had ever seen before. Cars whizzed by without a care in the world. The lights of Times Square illuminated the city so brightly that Draco hardly had to turn on a light in his hotel room. Street vendors harassed him with fliers and begged him to buy their wares. He scoffed when he looked at the merchandise - New Year's Eve souvenirs from 2004. Shaking his head he continued walking through the busy area.

"Hermione, you have to come," Ginny whined. "It's been too long since you've come to the Burrow. Mum's beginning to think you don't love us anymore."

The redhead received a groan in response. "Your mother made it quite clear how unhappy she was when Ron and I broke up," Hermione reminded her. "Besides, it's been far too long since I've seen my parents."

The younger witch wore a scowl as she reminded her friend that it had been a week since she last visited them. Tensions had risen between the Weasley matriarch and herself following the split. A tentative friendship had reformed between the former couple, but it did nothing to assuage Molly Weasley. Over the years, Hermione had become something of a second daughter, and Molly wanted that to become permanent. Marrying her youngest son would assure the young witch a place in the large family.

"Mum's over it," Ginny replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Ron's started seeing someone new."

As hard as she tried not to let this news affect her, Hermione felt a bit betrayed. Ron had never mentioned that he was dating, let alone that it was serious enough for family introductions. "Who?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

"Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?" Draco asked incredulously, taking stock of the woman as she collected the belongings that spilled from her purse when they bumped into each other on the corner of 42nd and Broadway. The dark haired girl looked up and smiled.

"Draco!" she greeted him, righting herself so she could hug him. "Of all the people I'd expect to find in the city, you weren't one of them."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he smiled sheepishly. "Just here on business," he muttered.

Pansy nodded knowingly. "I read that you've decided to estrange yourself from your parents," she commented as they walked together. Draco merely snorted. "And I take it from that gentlemanly display, that's not exactly the truth."

Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to marry who they wanted me to marry," he summarized as they stood on that corner. "They had a hand in disowning me, but I sort of cut myself off. Told them I didn't need their money if that was the only way to get it. My father kept me on at the company, though the position now requires infinitely more travel than it did before."

"Lucius Malfoy, what a philanthropist," Pansy joked.

Hermione nervously awaited Ron's arrival. Ginny assured her she would get on well with Ron's new girlfriend, but Hermione wasn't so sure. Though he hadn't dated much before her, his taste in women was questionable. Lavender Brown perfectly illustrated her point. The girl had been clingy towards Ron and nasty to anyone who came between them.

The brief horror that they were seeing each other again dissipated when Ron entered with Susan Bones just behind him. The shy former Hufflepuff fit in well with the family of gingers, and she was soon smiling as she was introduced to each member. Susan flashed a hesitant smile at Hermione; both women feeling awkward in the other's presence.

"Dinner is ready," Mrs. Weasley announced. Hermione released a small sigh of relief, glad that she would no longer have to make polite chit chat with her former classmate.

Pansy glanced nervously at her watch. "Somewhere to go?" Draco guessed, smiling easily at the girl with whom he had grown up. She was different now, somehow. No longer did she speak in a high pitched squeal or cling to him like a koala to a tree. She laughed easily and smiled often, and not once did she refer to him as "Drakey."

Pansy held up two tickets. "I'm seeing _Wicked_ with a potential client," she informed him. "I would have booked _The Phantom of the Opera_, but I want this deal to actually succeed," she added jokingly.

He shared in her laughter, despite having little idea as to what she said. A small part of him was delighted that it wasn't a date she was rushing off to, but a business meeting. "So, um, any chance we might bump into each other again soon?" he wondered, suddenly feeling nervous around her. "Perhaps for dinner?"

Pansy nodded. "Do you know your way around Little Italy?" she inquired. Draco shook his head. "I'll meet you at your hotel tomorrow, say around seven? I know this great little restaurant, Pisano's. You'll love it."

"Seven it is, then," he agreed, writing down the information for his hotel. She slipped his business card into her purse and kissed his cheek. "See you then."

Hermione was wedged between Susan and George, Ron's older brother. Food and drink covered every inch of the table, leaving very little room for Hermione to move. A small sense of claustrophobia settled in as George's elbow connected with her ribs for the third time. The first two times had been accidental, but now he was attempting to get her attention.

"You alright?" he asked softly, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate. Hermione nodded and waited for him to leave her alone once more. "You don't want to be here," he deduced.

"I'm fine, George," she muttered, demonstrating her desire to be there by dipping the tongs of her fork into the potatoes and licking off the small amount that stuck.

Shaking his head, he turned it to make sure no one else paid them any attention. "Is it true?" he whispered, causing Hermione's brows to furrow in confusion. "Ron told Susan that you're dating Malfoy. I don't really believe it. I just figured it was what he told her so she'd be comfortable around you. You two are friends, though, right?"

She looked away, glancing at Ron from the corner of her eye. He seemed...happy, she realized. He smiled more around Susan than he ever had around her. Suddenly, she wanted that. She wanted someone who looked at her with that same amount of love in his eyes that Ron had for his girlfriend. She wanted a hand to hold, an arm to wrap lovingly around her shoulders.

"No, George, it's not true," she replied sadly.


	10. May 2, 2007

A reviewer mentioned that she was (angrily) awaiting my next post, so I hope this puts her in a better mood. Although, I'm pretty sure some people might be mad at me. Just read it, you'll see what I mean.

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><p>May 2, 2007<br>Despite the din of Diagon Alley, Hermione found it easy to get lost in the pages of her novel as she sat on the outdoor patio of a small cafe. It was the same place she and Draco had lunched after his release from probation. But she refused to think of him now. Just weeks after they returned from Australia, Draco had set off for a year to America on business. Just days earlier, _The Daily Prophet_ had published the first sighting of his return to England.

And he wasn't alone.

On his arm, their faces close as they spoke, was Pansy Parkinson. The two had been rumored to be school sweethearts, but Draco had told her just the opposite. Pansy and Draco had been childhood friends, then confidants as they entered their Hogwarts years. Though the pureblooded witch had been his first in many areas, they were never the "it" couple the rest of the school made them out to be. But it seemed now that the newspaper wanted them to be exactly that.

That same day, Hermione received her first letter from him in over six months. Though he had written once a week for the first few months, most of the letters were left unanswered. In his most recent letter, he implored her to meet him at "their" cafe. Feeling guilty for her lack of replies in the past, she agreed to meet him.

"How is it you always get here first?"

Hermione looked up from her book to see Draco with Pansy by his side. "I own a watch," she retorted, setting aside the book as they sat down.

"Ah, must get myself one of those," he quipped.

"It would also help if you didn't stare at your own reflection for thirty minutes before leaving the house," Pansy contributed. She flashed a charming smile Hermione's way, which she returned uneasily. "I swear he takes longer to get ready than I do."

"Let's not all gang up on the only bloke at the table," Draco interjected, ordering for Pansy and himself when the waitress came by.

Hermione's cheeks filled with color when she realized he would not do her ordering as well. She picked the first thing she saw on the menu. "So, what's this news you wrote about?" she asked after the waitress left. The couple glanced at each other and smiled. Draco started off the story of their reacquaintance.

He had spent the last year in New York City, discussing the expansion of Malfoy Incorporated to the North American continent. Despite being disowned by his parents years before, he retained his position within the family company. At night, he had been drawn to the bright lights of Times Square. It was there that he, literally, ran into Pansy. They were going in opposite directions; Draco back to his hotel and Pansy to the theater. They chatted briefly on a busy corner before parting ways with a plan to meet for dinner the next night. After that night, they had begun dating, both glad to have a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

"I've seen your designs in Witch Weekly," Hermione interjected. "They're quite beautiful. Very expensive, but really beautiful."

Pansy blushed; nothing made her happier than hearing compliments about her work. "I'll have my assistant send you over a few things," she offered. "You'd look stunning in this new dress I just did. It's all lace and ruffles. A bit on the short side, but when you've got legs like yours, they should be shown off."

Hermione expressed her gratitude, though she wondered what she would do with such a frock. "So, what's the news?" she asked again.

"We eloped," Draco replied happily. Hermione stared at the couple, feeling like he had just punched her in the stomach. The smile he wore faded as his brow creased with worry for his friend. "Hermione, are you alright?"

She blinked twice and cleared her throat. "Sorry, a bit surprised is all," she replied. "That's wonderful news. Congratulations to you both." Pushing her chair back she got to her feet and made an excuse about having somewhere else to be. She walked away from the happy couple with tears of regret in her eyes. Whatever chance she could have had with Draco was now gone.

"I'll be right back," Draco muttered, kissing his wife's cheek before he ran after Hermione. "Wait!" he called out, but her pace quickened. He jogged until they were almost side by side, and he reached for her arm to stop her.

"What?" she asked, furiously wiping away her tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning her around to face him. His free hand wiped away another tear that traced the length of her cheek.

Hermione sighed and turned her eyes away from him. "Nothing. I'm really happy for the two of you," she replied, trying to make her words sound believable. "Pansy seems much nicer now than she did at school."

"I guess we've all changed," he replied gently. "I'm sorry I just sprung this on you. I should have told you sooner, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person."

Hermione shrugged his hands away and took a step back. "How much sooner?" she inquired, feeling a chill race up her spine.

"Six months ago," he answered, running a hand through his hair.

It hadn't been her fault then that the letters stopped. She nodded once and turned on her heel to Apparate back to her flat. What she didn't realize until she landed was that she had brought along a visitor.

"Why did you leave?" Draco demanded.

"Why did you hold onto me?" Hermione returned with just as much fury in her voice. "Gods, Draco, you could have been splinched. I'm not going to explain to your _wife_ how you lost your arm."

He held up a hand to silence her. "Don't," he cautioned, taking a step away from her.

"Don't what?" she questioned.

"Don't say _wife_ like it's something akin to Voldemort," he replied. He sighed and took a seat on the sofa as she whispered an apology. He shook his head, as if that would absolve her guilt, and beckoned her to join him. Instead, she remained on the other side of the coffee table. "We've been friends long enough for me to recognize when something is bothering you."

"I'm fine," she said with her arms crossed defensively.

"Then why do you look like you're either ready for a fight or you're going to cry again?" he wondered, getting to his feet. Hermione shrugged and began to back away as he drew nearer. She was soon backed up against the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. "I hate this game, you know."

"Then stop playing it," she retorted. He was too close. She could feel each breath he took as if he were breathing for her too. His smell was overpowering; sandalwood, soap, and a musk all his own. She wanted to touch him, to pull him to her, to kiss him. But she couldn't. He belonged to someone else now. _Not that he ever belonged to me_, she thought.

"My marriage doesn't change anything between us," he assured her, tucking a curl behind her ear. "You're still my best friend."

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "You're still my best friend too, but it changes everything," she whispered. "You should go."

He stepped back, his eyes hardening as he glared at her one last time before leaving.


	11. May 2, 2008

I've had a pretty good day today. The last chapter got almost 20 reviews, the new check-out clerk at Walgreens told me I'm cute, my boss hardly bugged me today, and I didn't have to work late. All of that made me decide to post another chapter!

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><p>May 2, 2008<br>Draco awoke just after midnight to a cold, empty bed. Pansy usually worked well into the early morning hours, claiming it to be her most creative time of the day. He pushed himself out of bed and crossed the hall to her work room. Swatches of fabric littered every surface of the room that was not already taken up by sketches and mannequins. Pansy's back was turned away from the door as she considered the gold silk draping on the front of her latest dress. Many times when sleep alluded him, Draco often watched her work, unbeknownst to his wife.

"Hand me that tape measure," Pansy said, her back still to him.

Her words snapped him from his thoughts, startling him forward. "Didn't know you knew I was here," he murmured, handing her the requested item and kissing her cheek.

"I always know," she replied, measuring the silk. She pinned the material from the right shoulder to the left hip. "Hermione would look lovely in this. Perhaps I could convince her to model it for me."

Draco sighed and retook his spot by the door. He'd heard those words several times when discussing Pansy's latest designs. Though his own friendship with Hermione had become strained, Pansy's had flourished. The two girls often got together for lunch and took hours-long shopping trips. He knew they were mostly organized by Pansy in an attempt to bond with his friends.

"So, why couldn't you sleep tonight?" Pansy asked, fixing the hem on the already short skirt.

"Just had a lot on my mind," he muttered.

Pansy finished the hem and sighed. They both knew what was on his mind. Draco wanted children and Pansy did not. He often commented that her clothes were all the children she needed. Each piece was given a name; she'd even gone so far as to christen her latest creation "Hermione".

"You should sleep," she said instead of rehashing old arguments. "I'm having lunch with Hermione around noon. Feel free to join us at the Leaky."

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><p>Hermione entered the Leaky Cauldron to find Pansy already waiting. "Sorry, meeting with my boss," she muttered, slumping down into the free chair across from her.<p>

"That's the benefit of being my own boss," Pansy replied with a smile. "And if you would accept my offer to work with me, then you wouldn't have to deal with the Ministry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Pansy's job offer came up every time they met, and Hermione politely declined it every time. The upside to Pansy's incessant chattering about the wonderful world of fashion was that Draco was not a part of it. She could listen to Pansy prattle on for hours about stitching techniques and the use of organza so long as Draco's name didn't come up.

"What's going on, Hermione?" Pansy asked worriedly. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Pansy cut her off. "You and Draco have hardly spoken since we returned to England. He told me how close the two of you were, and I can't help but wonder if I might be cause of this tension."

Pansy was more astute than Hermione had given her credit for, but she could never let the other girl know how spot on she was. "Would I really be friends with you if I felt you were the reason Draco and I aren't close anymore?" she asked, feeling like a true Slytherin for telling such a convincing lie. "We grew apart. Simple as that."

Pansy didn't believe her, but accepted her reasoning for the time being. "Why did you and Ron break up?" she asked, taking dainty sips of her butterbeer. "And don't tell me you grew apart."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know that I ever really loved him," she admitted, voicing this for the first time since their split. "It seemed...expected that we be together. After the war, though, he was different, distant. We didn't have the same interests or goals that we had as students. We really did grow apart."

Pansy nodded, taking in every word Hermione spoke. "And how much of that break up had to do with you being in love with my husband?" she wondered. Her tone was far from accusatory, but there was a melancholia to it that saddened both women.

"I swear, Draco never knew how I felt about him," Hermione replied, shocked by Pansy's question.

The raven haired beauty sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You should have told him."

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><p>Draco returned home from work late. The lights were off and the house dark. His leg hit something near the door, something that had never been there before. He turned on the first light he could find and found a suitcase in his path.<p>

"Pans?" he called out worriedly.

"Hi," she greeted him. Her voice sounded tired, but she showed no other emotion.

"Are you going somewhere?" he wondered as she picked up the suitcase.

Pansy nodded. "Back to New York," she told him. He started to talk, an attempt to convince her to stay, but Pansy stopped him. "We both know this isn't working. I love you, Draco, and I think you love me too. The problem is you also love someone else."

Try as he might to deny her claim, Draco knew he couldn't. It had happened some time ago that his feelings for Hermione had developed beyond friendship, but he knew she wouldn't feel the same way as he. He wanted love and found that in Pansy, but it wasn't the same.

"You don't have to leave," he told her, taking hold of her hand.

Pansy stepped closer to him and kissed his stubbled cheek. "Yes, I do," she replied sadly. "It's for the best, Draco."

Nodding, he pulled her into a tight embrace. "I really do love you, Pansy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The raven-haired witch sighed. "I really do love you too, Draco," she replied. Pulling away from him, she wiped her eyes and picked up her luggage. "I don't hate Hermione for this, just so you know. This last year she's become a really good friend. Be good to her."

Draco nodded and watched his wife walk out the door.


	12. May 2, 2009

There is really nothing I love more than when people enjoy my stories! Thank you to those of you who have responded so well. Last night, while I was trying to fall asleep, a new story idea popped into my head and had to be written. Only problem is it's a Christmas story. Probably too early to post, no?

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><p>May 2, 2009<br>The engagement of Luna Lovegood to Marcus Flint came as a shock to all who knew them. The ethereal, slightly off kilter blonde was a stark contrast to the rough around the edges former Slytherin Quidditch captain. None of that mattered to Draco as he stared at the glittery invitation that would soon transport him to the party's location. He wondered if Hermione would be in attendance.

It was too warm for early May, Hermione decided as she touched down. Her heels sunk into the grass and dirt, and she could feel the beginnings of perspiration on her brow. Her hair, which had been cut short months before, stuck to the nape of her neck. She found a seat in the shade, ready for the engagement party to be over. Seated at the table the farthest in the back, she had the perfect view of the guests as they arrived. One such guest caught her eye immediately and she turned to face away.

Draco noticed the short haired brunette who suddenly looked away. The seat beside her was vacant, and he immediately filled it. "You cut your hair," he observed.

Hermione continued to stare at the altar as she replied, "I wanted to try something different."

"It suits you," he said.

They sat in silence as the other guests filled in around them. A woman wearing a large feathered hat sat across from Hermione, effectively blocking her view unless she moved closer to Draco. She wondered if it would really be so terrible if she couldn't actually _see_ the couple as they made their toasts to one another. Draco moved one chair over, and with a tug on her arm, pulled her into his former seat. She mumbled a thank you and wiped her hand over the back of her neck.

The newly engaged couple arrived then. Marcus led Luna to her seat at the front table, but he remained standing to make his toast to his soon to be bride. His words were eloquently delivered, earning him a standing ovation when he finished.

"In two years' time, we've exchanged a handful of words and all of them today," Draco started, retaking his seat. "What happened to us? We used to tell each other everything. I miss you, Hermione."

Sighing, Hermione sat down. Her nervous fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of her neck; a new habit she had recently acquired with the cut. "How's the baby?" she asked in lieu of answering his question.

"Getting big," he mumbled. "Though from what my ex-wife tells me, you've seen Scorpius more than I have."

She shrugged. "You've been away a lot, and Pansy needed help," was her excuse.

He nodded. He had been travelling for his job more and more, glad for the excuse not to be in England. Though he loved his son, he couldn't help but feel like a failure. A month after Pansy had left for New York, she owled to say that she was six weeks pregnant. The next month, she returned to England so their child would grow up with a father. His four month old son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, lived with his mother, seeing his father only on the weekends he was in town. It had been a month since Draco had seen his son.

"I'm glad she still has you," he finally replied. "I must admit, I am a bit jealous. I don't know how it happened, but I lost you." Rising from his seat, he walked away from her.

She watched his back as he moved farther and farther away from her, until he disappeared just past the boundaries of the park. The tear that slipped down her cheek went unnoticed. Hermione had known the exact moment when he had lost her - the day they left Australia. His surprise marriage to Pansy Parkinson had been the penultimate nail in the coffin; the birth of his son, the final nail.

While she spent her time focusing on her career with the Ministry of Magic, Draco sought a family. She knew that had been his ultimate goal. He wanted to love someone who returned that affection with the same gusto, and he wanted children. And so, she wondered now why he squandered the opportunities presented to him in the name of business. She continued to allow thoughts of Draco to envelop her as the band started to play.

The couple had just completed their first dance when Hermione refocused on the event. Looking at her table mates, she was shocked to see who had taken Draco's seat. A portly, sweaty man in his late forties sat beside her, intent on getting to know her better.

"You here with anyone?" he inquired, smiling lasciviously at her as he downed his third firewhiskey.

She should have lied, should have said her date was in the loo. Instead she replied, "No." And for that mistake, Hermione kicked herself. As more and more couples joined Luna and Marcus on the dance floor, the man beside her pestered her to dance. "Really, it would be worse for you if I did. I'm a terrible dancer."

The man, who introduced himself as Jerry, scoffed. "Pretty girls are always good dancers. Besides, you stepping on my toes wouldn't be all that bad," he urged. He placed a hand on her upper arm in order to coax her to her feet.

"Sorry I'm late."

Hermione looked up to see Draco standing behind her chair wearing an embarrassed grin. He leaned down and kissed her cheek before whispering in her ear, "Need help?"

Jerry let go of her arm and Hermione hopped out of her chair. "It's no problem," she told him, returning his kiss. She held tightly to his arm as Draco led her to the dance floor. "You know, I meant it when I said I can't dance."

Placing one hand on her waist and taking her other in his, Draco held her close. "It's a slow song. Just sway," he instructed, setting a slow pace for them. She kept her eyes on her feet; whether it was to watch her steps or avoid looking at him, Draco was unsure. He moved their joined hands up and raised her chin until she finally met his eye. "See, not so bad."

Draco winced as her foot connected with his. "Oh, I'm sorry," she cried. "I told you I'm hopeless."

"It's fine," he replied. "It's nice to know there's something you aren't good at."

"There are many things I'm not good at," she retorted, as if it were a source of pride. "I can't play Quidditch, I never quite got the hang of jumping rope, Divination was a bit of a failure."

He laughed and pulled her closer. "Anything else?" he inquired.

The humor left her face as she tilted it down once more. "It seems I wasn't very good at being your friend," she replied quietly. Their dance stopped as she pulled away from him and left the dance floor. She could sense his presence behind him, which made her heart beat faster. A hand closed around her arm by the time she reached the small wooded area just beyond the party.

"It wasn't just you," Draco said, turning her around to face him. Before she could ask what he meant, his lips met hers in a searing kiss.


	13. May 2, 2010

Don't you hate when a title comes up for a rush reprint and the order takes forever to get posted in the system so you can cut the purchase order? No? That's just me? Okay, then. I'm really not very good at waiting. Probably something I should work on. No, instead I think I'll work on my stories. Much better plan.

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><p>May 2, 2010<br>Each year, on the anniversary of the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War, the Ministry of Magic gathered together all those who fought for the light. This was the first time she attended the gathering. Hermione wandered through Hogwart's Great Hall looking longingly at the pictures of friends she had lost over a decade before. She stopped in front of Dumbledore's portrait and sighed. Though she still missed those who died, she suddenly felt guilty that she no longer _grieved_ the loss.

"I think about him every day," Draco told her, coming up behind her. He rested one hand on her hip and reached the other around to hand her a drink. Hermione took the drink and pulled his arm around her stomach. "I almost feel wrong for being here."

"You've paid your debt, Draco, and you lost people too. You have every right to be here," she replied, lacing her fingers through his. "Besides, who else would I order about to get me drinks?" she added jokingly.

"I'm serious," he grumbled, pulling away from her. He could no longer face Dumbledore or any other lost hero. Turning on his heel, he exited the Great Hall with Hermione behind him, quickening her pace to keep up with his.

Twelve years earlier, they had met after the Final Battle on the outskirts of the Black Lake. It seemed rather appropriate that, upon their return to Hogwarts, that was were they would go. Picking up a stone, Draco skipped it across the surface of the dark, murky lake and sighed. "Potter and Weasley demanded to know why you brought me here," he finally said.

From where she stood behind him, Hermione could see the defeated slump of his shoulders and the way he hung his head. Despite the passage of time, it seemed there were still some in the wizarding world who would always see Draco Malfoy as a former Death Eater. Unfortunately, two of her best friends were among those who felt that way. It was a situation only she could rectify, and she planned to do just that. Turning, she took off for the castle.

Hermione quickly found Harry Potter amidst a group of their former classmates. Without a word, she pulled him from the group and demanded to know Ron's whereabouts. The cross look she wore more than told him she wasn't joking around. He led her to the other side of the Hall where Ron stood beside his wife, Susan. "Let's chat," she said, trying to sound friendly in Susan's presence as she pulled both Harry and Ron away. When they were in the privacy of the entrance hall, she turned and stared them down. "What did you say to Draco?" she demanded.

"I told him he doesn't belong here, that he doesn't belong with you," Harry replied, returning her ire. "This is in remembrance of our side, not his."

Hermione turned to Ron, who remained silent. She hoped that perhaps she had an ally in her former fiance, but his eyes strayed from her. "It's been over ten years. People have changed," she stated. "Draco fought this war just like the rest of us. He grieved the same as us."

"The difference between us and Malfoy is we didn't side with Voldemort," Harry returned. Now, he too looked to Ron for support. But the redhead still remained impassive.

Hermione shook her head sadly at her friend. "How could you go to his defense at trial, but still see him as the bad guy?" she wondered. Before Harry could respond, she walked away, exiting the castle.

Ron shook his head and finally spoke, "You know, it was hard losing her as a fiancee. I don't think either one of us wants to lose her as a friend, too."

Draco was seated on the bank of the lake when Hermione returned. Kicking off her heels, she sat down beside him and dipped her toes in the cold water. "I'm sorry," she murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Draco moved closer and pressed a kiss to her head. "Perhaps it's better that they get it out now instead of embarrassing us at our wedding."

Hermione stared at him, shocked by his statement. "Our wedding? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Malfoy," she replied, hoping her laughter covered the panic she felt.

Draco shrugged and got to his feet, walking a bit of a distance from the lake's edge. "Do you remember where we fell asleep that night?" he asked. Hermione was by his side as she led them to that place near the trees. Draco sat down, leaning back against a tree, and pulled Hermione down to sit between his outstretched legs.

Hermione sighed contently as she leaned back against his chest. "Why couldn't it be this way when we were here?" she wondered.

"How do you mean?" he asked, lacing together their fingers.

"I mean, why did it take a war to change how we saw each other," she explained, shifting so she could look at him. Her free hand traced the contours of his jaw down to his chin. "Why did we waste so much time hating each other?"

Draco kissed her fingers as they passed over his lips. "Because I was an idiot for believing that muggleborns were an atrocity to our world," he replied simply. "Sometimes I would wonder what it was exactly that the so-called 'blood traitors' could see that we couldn't. And then the Manor happened and I was forced to watch you bleed. My deranged aunt kept taunting you that it was muddy, but it looked just the same as mine. That was when I finally realized we're not so different, you and me."

"We really aren't," she agreed with a lilting laugh. "We're both too stubborn for our own good."

"But," he interjected, "we're also intelligent beyond our years. Not to mention, both of us are terribly good looking." Hermione continued to laugh, unaware that he pulled something from his pocket. When she calmed down, he sighed. "There's really no one in this world who is worthy of you, but I want to try to be. It shouldn't have taken me so long to see how much I love you, how much I need you." With his free hand, he opened the lid of the jewelry box. "Marry me, Hermione Granger."

She pulled the ring from the box and quickly slipped it onto her finger as he kissed her. "Better late than never," she murmured against his lips.


	14. May 2, 2011

I feel like it's been a long time since I posted a new chapter. _One Day_, the book that gave me the idea for this story, was just released in theaters. Apparently, it's not great. This morning I read an article about how "toxic" the story is (not my story. I doubt they've read it.) It was a good read (the article, not the book), and I'd definitely recommend finding it.

Anyhow, this chapter and the next few are some of my favorites, so enjoy!

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><p>May 2, 2011<br>Draco laughed as he watched his new wife spin his two year old son around the dance floor. Scorpius's gray eyes, eyes so much like his father's, sparkled with delight each time Hermione twirled him in a circle.

"She looks beautiful," Pansy commented, taking Hermione's empty seat at the head table.

"You _did_ design the dress," Draco reminded her, his smile never wavering. Pansy shrugged nonchalantly, but the proud grin she wore told him she appreciated the opportunity to contribute. They continued to watch son and stepmother in amused silence until the song ended. Scorpius bowed before Hermione led him to their table.

Scorpius ran to his father, arms extended in a silent plea to be picked up. Draco obliged and settled the little boy on his lap. He slowly helped Scorpius sip from his water glass. When he had his fill, he sighed contentedly. "I a good dancer, Daddy?" he asked.

"Very good. I think you wore Minnie out," he replied, smoothing down the boy's platinum blond locks.

"My Minnie? Her's my favorite," Scorpius stated, leaning against Draco's shoulder tiredly.

"Perhaps I wore him out a bit too," Hermione observed as Scoripus's eyes slowly slid shut.

Pansy rose from her seat and moved around the back of the chairs. Gently, she took her son from Draco's arms, pressing a kiss to Scorpius's forehead as she did so. "I guess we'll be going," she announced, despite her son's protest to stay. She kissed Draco's cheek before doing the same to Hermione. "You two enjoy your honeymoon. Oh, and don't let Draco help you off with the dress. He's terrible with small buttons."

"I heard that," he mumbled.

Pansy rolled her eyes, and continued speaking with the bride. "Now, I expect pictures and a detailed account of everything," she stated. "And don't look now, but Potter and Weasley are on their way over." She excused herself, brushing past the former Gryffindors on her way towards the exit.

"I say we only send her really raunchy pictures," Draco joked. "That'll teach her to be so nosy."

A deep blush filled Hermione's cheek at the mere thought. She quickly shot down his idea as her friends approached the table. Draco moved closer to his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist. He'd meant it as a sign of unity, that they would stand up to them together. But he also knew, that so long as he held onto her, he couldn't attack either man.

"Hey, Mione," Ron greeted her. He exhaled an appreciative breath as he surveyed her from head to toe. "You look beautiful."

Draco covered up a laugh when the redhead stepped back and elbowed Harry Potter in the ribs. Begrudgingly, the Boy Who Lived sighed and muttered something along the same lines. He noticed the way Hermione's eyes narrowed on her friend, and Draco couldn't help but wonder when her wand would make an appearance.

"Honestly, Harry, I thought we were past this," she sighed.

Harry shook his head. "Could we speak somewhere a bit more private?" he requested.

She glanced quickly at her husband, a silent conversation passing between their eyes. Draco let go of his wife and watched as she exited the reception hall with Harry Potter trailing behind her. Ron sheepishly looked from Draco to his friends before joining them.

"Well, you've got me alone, Harry. What is it you needed to say?" Hermione inquired.

His features relaxed as he took in the sight before him - Hermione dressed in her flowing, white wedding gown. Her curls were pulled into a high bun, and in lieu of a veil, a small, jeweled tiara rested atop her head. Her shoes had been discarded hours earlier, and now she stood outside barefoot. "You really are beautiful," he told her.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she returned.

"I know I've been a prat," he started. "Malfoy was...horrible to us as kids. But that's no excuse to hate him as an adult. You've said it before that he's changed, and I guess it's taken some time for me to see that. Ron said something that really changed my mind. He told me that it was hard to lose you as his fiancee, but it would be harder to lose you as a friend."

Ron reached them at that moment, and flashed her a smile. "You could have just trusted me when I said it," she countered, adjusting her tiara. "You used to listen to me all the time when we were younger."

"Yeah, but there were never boys involved then," Ron joked.

"Well, except for us," Harry added.

"Plus there was Neville, Dean, Seamus, all of my brothers. That list is quite extensive," Ron realized.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at their antics. It reminded her of old times. Late into the night, the trio would often sit around and talk long after the rest of their housemates had gone to bed. She had never laughed so hard as she did then. Those were the times she desperately missed; the time spent with her boys.

"How did things get so complicated with us?" she wondered, looking around for a place to sit that wouldn't ruin her dress. Ron removed his jacket and placed it on a stone bench. She gave him a thankful smile and sat on it. "I know we had our spats here and there growing up, but everything's changed now."

Ron sighed and sat down beside her. "I love my wife and our children, but I really always believed it would be you," he told her. "Harry had Ginny, and you and I were supposed to be together. I knew you weren't happy. But with Malfoy, you seem, I don't know, brighter."

Harry stood on her other side and placed his hand on her bare shoulder. "I'm glad you're happy, Mione," he told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry we gave you such a hard time when the two of you began dating."

They heard a voice clear before the sounds of footsteps approached. "People are beginning to think my wife has run off with The Boy Who Lived and his trusted sidekick," Draco drawled, coming into view. With a smile on her face, Hermione rose to greet him. "No tears," he whispered, touching her dry cheek with the tips of his fingers.

"They didn't cry either," Hermione teased, turning her head to face her friends.

Both men shot her wry smiles before excusing themselves. "Be good to her, Malfoy," Harry advised as Ron walked ahead of him. "You may be bigger than me, but I'm better with a wand."

Draco smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, Potter," he replied. When the boys were gone, he kissed Hermione. "I would never do anything to hurt you," he vowed.

With a smile, she kissed her new husband softly. "Good, because I'm better with a wand than Harry is."


	15. May 2, 2012

Ever have one of those days when you can't remember how to spell your own name? I've recently discovered that I have no longer have any idea how to connect the "e" and "g" in my name when I sign it. That can't be good.

But you know what is good? This chapter. Read it! Enjoy it!

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><p>May 2, 2012<br>Hermione sat in her ever darkening bedroom holding a pregnancy test. It was the fourth negative test she had taken in the last six months. As hard as they tried, the couple seemed incapable of conceiving. It frustrated the witch beyond words. There had to be something wrong with her. After all, Draco had already had a child.

"Hermione, I'm home," Draco called out to a seemingly empty house. "Hermione?" he said again when he got no reply. He found her in their bedroom, seated on the edge of the bed. Her small frame rocked back and forth as she clutched the pregnancy test in her hand. Draco knelt before her, cupping her cheeks. "Hermione?" he asked, panicked by the sight before him.

Wordlessly, she handed him the test. His good mood deflated at the sight of one line, knowing it to mean negative. "What's wrong with me?" she wondered, her voice a whisper through her sobs. She fell into his awaiting embrace, glad for the small amount of comfort his arms provided.

The question pained Draco more than he wanted to admit. After a miscarriage just months after they married, each attempt at having a baby failed. There were no words he knew to console her, and so he held her silently.

"I saw Susan this morning at St. Mungo's," she informed her husband, face still firmly pressed to his chest. "She's running some tests. She's been doing research on the Cruciatus curse and its effects."

"Does she think that has something to do with us not being able to have a baby?" he asked, slowly stroking her back.

Hermione pulled back. "Not _us_, Draco, _me_," she stated pointedly. Getting to his feet, Draco rose to his full height and murmured an apology. Hermione shook her head, dismissing his words. "You've nothing to be sorry for," she told him.

Nodding, Draco sat down beside her and took hold of Hermione's hand. "I know how frustrating this is for you," he said softly. "It's the same for me too. When Scor was born, I was away so often that there was so much I missed. I can't make that up to him, but I thought with another baby...maybe I could be a good father."

Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You _are_ a good father, love," she replied. With a sigh, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "It's funny. When I was younger I had no desire to be a mother. I thought I'd be too busy saving the world to stay at home and take care of children. But now, fearing that I can't ever have a baby makes me want one even more."

"We will have our baby," he promised. "Perhaps a little girl with wildly curly brown hair and deceptive gray eyes. She'll read all the time, but she'll enjoy Quidditch. Scor will have someone to fight with and protect when they get to Hogwarts."

"A little girl would be nice," she agreed. They sat together in silence. Hermione's eyes wandered around the room, landing on the various pictures lined up on the mantle. Their wedding picture stood proudly in the middle, the frame larger than the rest. A picture of Hermione and Scorpius was to the left, both smiling as they sat together on a playground swing. Photos of Harry and Ginny's children, James, Albus, and Lily, and Ron and Susan's twins, Hugo and Daniel, were placed throughout.

One photo in particular caught her eye. It had been taken on her third birthday. She was seated in her high chair, cake smeared across her rounded face, and her parents flanked either side of her. Hermione smiled at the picture of her parents. Both dentists, they had waited until their mid-thirties to have her, wanting instead to establish themselves financially.

"Do you think I waited too long?" she asked, never taking her eyes from the picture. Glancing up, she noticed the look of confusion Draco wore. "To have a baby, I mean. Do you think I waited too long? What if I'm too old now to have one?"

He laughed. "Thirty-two is not too old to have a baby," he informed her, holding her close despite her attempt to move away. "Besides, didn't you read about that witch in _The Prophet_ who had a baby when she was 70? If she can have one, so can you."

"Yeah, but I'll bet that she wasn't Crucio'd by a deranged woman with a crush on Voldemort," Hermione retorted. Her finger traced the scarred remains of the word Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into he arm when she was eighteen. Though it had mostly faded, the memory would haunt her until her last day.

Draco took her hand, effectively stopping her memory of that day. "We've overcome a lot, you and me. This is just one more thing. If the tests show that we can't have a baby on our own, we _will_ find another way. I will do whatever it takes, pay however much it costs to give this family everything it wants."

Tears stung her eyes as she moved in to press her lips to his. "I love you, Draco Malfoy," she murmured against his lips.

He shifted to cover her body as he laid her down on the bed. "I love you too, Hermione Malfoy," he replied, deepening the connection between them. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck while his worked the buttons on her shirt. He felt a sharp tug, then she turned her head away.

"Wait, before we go any further," she said, holding him back by his hair. "Susan took me to see this little girl. Her parents died when she was two months old, and she's lived in the hospital's orphanage ever since."

"That's terrible," Draco replied, leaning forward to kiss her once more.

But Hermione adamantly held him back. "She's beautiful, Draco," she continued. "Her name is Rose and she's the same age as Scorpius. Imagine if he had someone else to play with besides you and me, someone who would be here all the time?"

Draco furrowed his brows and moved to lay beside her. "How did they die?" he asked.

Turning onto her side, Hermione swept the blond hair away from his eyes. "Potions accident," she answered. "Imagine being that young and never knowing your parents," she added sadly.

"Sounds a lot like Potter," he commented, rolling onto his side to face her. "What are you thinking?" he wondered, stroking her cheek.

"I'm thinking that I want us to adopt her," she replied softly.


	16. May 2, 2013

First an earthquake, now a hurricane. I've always believed I lived in a really great area. We've never had tornadoes or earthquakes. We usually get the tail end of hurricanes and blizzards. Mother Nature is getting back at me for taking New Jersey for granted. Or she trying to get rid of the cast of _Jersey Shore_. Don't get me wrong, I'm addicted to that show, but some of them are just...well, gross.

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><p>May 2, 2013<br>"I don't want a sister anymore!" Scorpius declared as he slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs.

Draco reopened the door and followed his son inside, trailed by the newest addition to the Malfoy family, Rose. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you get back down here and apologize. Now!" he yelled.

Hermione closed her book and walked out of the sitting room to find out what the ruckus was about. Rose stepped around Draco and accepted her mother's embrace. "What's going on?" she asked, smoothing down Rose's red curls. Draco shut the door and shook his head angrily. Hermione and Rose watched him storm up the stairs, but instead of going left toward his son's room, he went right to the master bedroom. Hermione asked the question once more.

Rose held tightly to her leg as she said, "Daddy told him to let me swing, and Scorpius said no. So, Daddy made him get off and give me a turn. Then he pushed me, Mummy, and my pants got all dirty."

Hermione surveyed the seat of Rose's pants, noting the dirt and grass stains. "Why don't you go change them and put them in the hamper," she suggested. "I'll have some lunch ready for you went you come back down."

Slowly, the little girl detached herself from Hermione's leg and took each step carefully. Hermione smiled as her daughter disappeared from sight before making her way to the master bedroom. Rose had come to live with the Malfoys six months previously, and Scorpius had been thoroughly unhappy. The adopted girl was two months his senior, extremely well behaved, and exceptionally smart. But Scorpius's real jealousy, Hermione believed, stemmed from the fact that Rose lived with them full time while he did not.

"That boy," Draco seethed.

"Is exactly like you at that age," she finished for him, flashing a signature Malfoy smirk his way. Draco shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "You realize why he's acting this way, don't you?"

"No, enlighten me," he groused.

"He doesn't want to share his father," she stated simply. Closing the space between them, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. "Can't say I blame him. I don't like having to share you either."

Draco laughed, and moved down to kiss his wife. "Yeah, but you've never knocked Rosie over," he countered.

Before any more could be said, the bedroom door flew open and in ran Scorpius. "Minnie, Minnie, I love you," he said hurriedly as he crashed into her legs. She bent down and untangled their limbs before hoisting him up in her arms. He rested his head on her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear. "Is Daddy really mad at me?" he whispered.

"I think so," she replied, glancing at Draco. His mood had soured the second the little boy burst into the room. "How about you come downstairs with me and help me make some lunch," she suggested, deciding it would be best for the two Malfoy men to not be in the same room. Scorpius nodded sadly and allowed her to put him down.

Scorpius beat her to the kitchen and pulled out a loaf of bread. "Look, Minnie, I helped," he said proudly when she joined him.

"Thank you," she replied, kissing the top of his head once he settled himself in his usual chair. Together, they assembled four sandwiches quietly. It wasn't until she heard the little boy sniffle that she stopped. Beckoning him to her, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He climbed onto her lap and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Daddy loves Rosie more than me," he confided in her.

Hermione's heart broke as he uttered those words. "Don't you ever, not for a minute, think that's true," she told him. "Your daddy has enough love in his heart for you and Rose. When he tucks you in at night, what is it he always tells you?"

Scorpius sniffled again. "That he loves me to the moon and back," he mumbled.

"And he means it." Hermione sighed sadly as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Do you remember when we told you Rosie was going to come live with us? Remember we told you that some bad things happened to her, and to her mummy and daddy? She needs people to love her that way - to the moon and back."

The kitchen door swung open as Draco and Rose entered. Upon seeing them, Scorpius climbed off of Hermione's lap and walked over to his sister. Wrapping his arms around her, he said, "I love you, Rosie. To the moon and back."

The little girl did nothing, said nothing. Glancing from parent to parent for some instruction, Draco nodded his encouragement. Rose finally returned his hug. "I love you, too, Scor," she replied.

As they pulled away, Draco sank down onto his knee and smiled at his son. "Can we still be buddies?" he asked.

"Do you still love me, Daddy?" Scorpius asked, needing confirmation before agreeing to Draco's request.

"I will never stop," he vowed as Scorpius launched himself into his arms.

Later that night as Hermione and Draco readied themselves for bed, there was a knock on the bedroom door. Draco opened it to reveal two small, sleepy children.

"The rain's too loud, Daddy," Scorpius grumbled, leaning slightly onto Rose. "Can we sleep with you and Minnie?"

With a nod, Draco bent down and picked up the two children easily. Hermione pulled back the blankets and covered the two once they were settled in the middle of the king-sized bed. The pair fell asleep quickly despite the pounding of rain against the window panes.

Hermione pulled Draco into the bathroom connected to their room. "They seem to be getting on better now," she commented as she brushed through her hair.

Draco ran the tap, waiting for the water to get cold. "He wasn't like that in the beginning," he groused, running his toothbrush under the water.

"She didn't talk much in the beginning either," Hermione pointed out. "Remember how long it was before she stopped calling us Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy? Scorpius used to ask me how long she was staying. I think he's only just figured out she's not going anywhere."

Rinsing his mouth, Draco turned off the tap. Scorpius had often asked him the same question, as if the little girl were merely a house guest instead of a new member of the family. He had been able to look past the comments, accrediting them to Scorpius's young age and misunderstanding. But then the teasing began, which led to pushing and shoving. As far as either of them knew, an incident similar to the push he gave her earlier had happened only once.

"How do we handle this?" he wondered. "Neither of us ever had to deal with sibling rivalry."

Setting down her brush, Hermione closed the space between them. "Exactly as we did today," she replied. "We let them know that they're both loved, but hurting one another won't be tolerated. I'm sure you taking away his broomstick for his next two stays here will be sufficient in driving that point home."

Draco chuckled and exited the bathroom with Hermione behind him. Carefully and quietly they climbed into bed. He stroked Scorpius's blond hair back from his face and frowned. "Pansy's seeing someone," Draco whispered. "Think he knows?"

Rose rolled over into Hermione's arms, whimpering but still asleep. Waiting to be sure she wouldn't wake, Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think he knows."


	17. May 2, 2014

Back to work today. I have a list of reprints to process, but I'm feeling lazy. With only six years (chapters) left to this story, I figured it was time to start working on some new things. So, that's what I'm doing instead. It's almost like being a real author when I write at work, ya know, since I'm getting paid for my time.

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><p>May 2, 2014<br>Hermione awoke in an uncomfortable bed with a sharp pain in her back. A faint cry had woken her, but she felt unable to move. Glancing down, she noticed a hand entwined with her own. Beside her hospital bed sat Draco. He was bent over with his head resting on one arm on top of the mattress. With her free hand, she pushed back the blond fringe that hung in his closed eyes.

The cry grew louder. Gently, she pulled her hand out of his and struggled out of bed. To her left was a small cradle, wherein lie her daughter. "It's alright, sweet girl," she murmured as she lifted her up. Slowly, for the pain in her back worsened, she padded across the room to the rocking chair near the window. Settling down, she began to feed her baby.

Draco began to stir and blinked several times to clear his vision. "What are you doing up?" he asked, turning to face her.

"We're discussing the latest trends in shoes," she deadpanned. "Michaela isn't a fan of wedges."

Turning his chair around, he stared in awe at the life held so protectively in his wife's arms. "I never thought we'd see her," he whispered. After years of infertility, they had finally found a healer who promised they would have their baby. Schedules were set, appointments made, and tests run before the results finally confirmed their long time desire. Hermione had been ordered to bed rest following a rough fourth month.

Michaela Joy Malfoy was their miracle baby. Hermione had explained that the name meant a gift from God, and what could be more fitting? At two days old, the baby girl was already a perfect fit for their small family.

"I'm a bit nervous to find out how Scor and Rosie react to her actually being here," Hermione commented, knowing she would be returning home in mere hours.

"They'll love her," he replied, feeling slightly less sure than he hoped he sounded.

An hour later, they returned home to find The Potters and Zabinis attempting to corral five young children. Rose was the first to notice their arrival and tugged on Scorpius's sleeve. They quietly counted to three before yelling, "Welcome home, Michaela!" They looked quite pleased with themselves despite the cry emitted by their new baby sister.

"I want to hold her," Scorpius requested, tugging on his father's shirt hem.

"No, me first," Rose protested. "I'm older," she added, sticking out her tongue at her brother when Hermione wasn't looking.

Draco, however, caught it. He removed Scorpius's hands from his clothes and directed Hermione towards the sofa. "I think we'll let Aunt Pansy hold her first," he decided. Gingerly, he lifted the baby from her mother's arms and placed her in Pansy's waiting hold.

"She's so beautiful," Pansy gushed, looking from the baby to her husband. "Doesn't she make you want one of our own?" she asked him.

Blaise shrugged, cautiously tracing his finger over the soft skin of Michaela's rosy, round cheek. "I think we've got our hands full enough with Scorpius," he replied, smiling at the little boy. Scorpius frowned and took a seat beside Hermione. "Just think, Draco, now you've got three," Blaise added in a "better you than me" tone.

Draco took a seat in the armchair adjacent to the sofa and pulled Rose onto his lap. "I'll keep them all," he replied, kissing the top of his daughter's head. Rose anxiously banged the heel of her sneaker against Draco's shin, all the while asking if it was her turn to hold the baby yet, but Ginny now held Michaela. He could see the exhaustion in Hermione's eyes, and knew their friends would soon need to leave. "You can hold her when your aunts and uncles leave," he promised.

"But Aunt Ginny told Mummy she would take me back home with her, and Scor has to go home with his mummy," she complained.

Draco looked to his wife for an explanation. "Ginny thought it would be a good idea if she and Harry took Rose for the night to give us a chance to get acclimated," Hermione responded, yawning through the last three words she spoke.

"I don't want to go, Daddy," Rose whispered, leaning back against his chest. Her small hand tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "Please don't make me go."

"You don't have to go," he assured her, tucking curls behind her ear. Despite the number of years Rose had spent as a Malfoy, she still feared being separated from her family. "Ginny, really, I appreciate the offer, but Rose can stay here."

"I wanna stay too, Dad," Scorpius whined, moving away from his mother. His hands rested on Draco's knee as he looked at him with wide, pleading gray eyes.

Draco sighed, feeling guilty that he would have to let down his son. He shared the same helpless glance with Hermione, who frowned already knowing what was coming. Pansy was the one to break the news to the little boy. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you can stay next weekend," she told him. "Daddy and Minnie need some time to get adjusted."

"If I was Minnie's, I could stay," he retorted, glaring at his mother.

Blaise rose from his spot on the sofa, giving his wife a look that said it was time to go. Pansy rose and took hold of Scorpius's hand. "Say goodbye, Scorpius," Pansy spoke through clenched teeth. In lieu of a response, the little blond continued to glare and pout as he was led to the fireplace by his mother. Harry and Ginny left soon after.

"We could have let him stay," Hermione conceded.

Draco moved Rose to her feet and dismissed her. "We'll have our hands full enough with Michaela. I don't think I can deal with Rose and Scor fighting all day. Plus, you remember how jealous he was when we first brought Rose home. I'm not going to put up with that. We're both far too tired for it." Bending down, he kissed her forehead and took his daughter from her arms.

Hermione rose from the sofa and stood in front of him. Her eyes rested on the baby sleeping in her husband's arms. "I feel bad for him," she murmured, softly stroking Michaela's fine brown hair. "He wants to be here so badly."

Draco shook his head. "He knows the arrangement, has known it for years," he replied. "No amount of temper tantrums will change that. Don't let him make you feel guilty. He's a Malfoy after all. We're notorious for using guilt to get our way."

Hermione groaned, but wore a small smile. "Let's hope this little one is more Granger than Malfoy."


	18. May 2, 2015

In this chapter, I mention Louisa May Alcott's _Little Women_. I don't own this work either, but it was my first "grown up" book. I read it when I was seven or eight, and decided I would be Jo when I grew up.

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><p>May 2, 2015<br>Rose spotted the owl first. The family had just sat down to breakfast when a snowy white owl perched itself on the ledge outside the kitchen window. Setting her fork down by the side of her plate, she got up to let the bird in. "Whose owl is this, Daddy?" she asked, taking the proffered letter from its beak. With a soft pat on the head, the owl flew away. The note in her hand was addressed to him, and so she gave it to him.

"Looks like my mother's," he muttered, opening the envelope. Hermione stopped feeding Michaela and turned her full attention to her husband. His brows wrinkled the further down the page he went. Finally, he refolded the parchment and slipped it back inside the envelope before pocketing it. "Finish your breakfast, Rosie. I'll take you flying when you're done." Then he left the kitchen as if nothing had happened.

Hermione stared at his retreating form. Draco Malfoy had always been inscrutable, and just once she wished she could know what he was thinking. Michaela banged her hand on the high chair's tray and giggled, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.

"Daddy never takes me flying," Rose said, finishing off the last of her waffle. "I don't like flying, Mum."

"I know, sweetie," Hermione muttered as she cleaned off her youngest daughter's face. "Take your sister into the sitting room. I have to talk to Daddy." She lifted Michaela out of her chair and watched as she and Rose slowly walked out of the kitchen. With a wave of her wand, Hermione had the plates washing in the sink.

Draco paced across the master bedroom, the letter crumpled in his hand. Hermione knocked softly on the door, but he seemed not to notice her until she stood in front of him. "What's it say?" she asked.

He handed her the letter and watched as she smoothed out the wrinkles. "My father is dead," he told her before she had a chance to read it.

"A month ago," she added, pursing her lips as she read. Reaching the end, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry, love."

"I'm not," he muttered, returning her affection. He expected her to pull away, to chide him for not caring about his father's death, but she continued to hold him.

"She wants to see you, Draco."

He moved out of her arms and sat down on the corner of their bed. It had been more than a decade since he had last seen any member of his family, and he was content to keep it that way. He wondered how much his mother knew of his current life. Did she know about his marriages and divorce? Did she know about his children? Shaking his head, he decided he didn't want her to know. In his mind, she had been just as instrumental in disowning him as his father had been. She didn't deserve to know any of it.

"I can't do that," he admitted. "And not just because it's been so long. She and my father raised me to believe that anything less than pure blood was an abomination. I won't have her upsetting our children because they don't live up to her standards."

Hermione sat down beside him, massaging the back of his neck. "Maybe just talk to her on your own," she suggested. "Mend the bridge between the two of you first."

"I don't think it'll be that simple," he replied.

"Draco, she defied Voldemort, lied to him because of you," she reminded him. "She cared enough about your safety to risk her own life."

"And then I refused to let her dictate my life, my choices." He distanced himself from her, moving to stand in front of the tall dresser that housed his clothes. His eyes were drawn to last year's Christmas photo. Hermione stood on his right, Michaela was in his arms, and Rose and Scorpius stood in front wearing matching red sweaters with their initials embroidered on them, courtesy of Molly Weasley. This was his prize for distancing himself from his parents. The four other people in the photograph were his reward for finally having the courage to stand on his own two feet.

At that moment, he heard one of his precious rewards cry out his name. With a chuckle, he exited the bedroom with Hermione on his heels. Together they entered the sitting room. Rose scowled at her sister while holding her finger.

"Layla bit me," she said upon seeing her parents.

Hermione examined her finger, finding a dull indentation of teeth marks. "You'll be alright," she assured her, despite the protest of how much her finger hurt. "Was there a reason she bit you?"

Rose, cheeks turning red, shrugged. "She kept trying to take my book," she muttered.

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on her," Hermione replied, crossing her arms over her chest to illustrate her disappointment.

Draco moved Michaela into his lap after settling down on the carpet. "I think the both of you need to apologize," he said, his voice firm but calm. Rose balked at this idea, but one look from her father had her mumbling an apology to her sister. With a smile, he looked down at his youngest and tickled her sides. "Can you say 'sorry'?" he asked her.

Michaela looked up at him, all the while playing with a single brunette curl. "So," she replied, smiling giddily at her accomplishment.

"There, all better then?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet. Rose nodded halfheartedly, but continued to hold onto the injured digit. "Good. What do you say we get some of your lessons in before lunch? What was it you were reading?"

"_Little Women_," Rose replied, her finger forgotten at the mention of her favorite book.

Hermione sighed. "I always wanted to be Jo."

Mother and daughter walked away, leaving Draco alone with his youngest child. He kissed the top of her head, which was met with a squeal of laughter. This was why he had done it, he decided. This was why he allowed his parents to walk out of his life - so he could have a family.


	19. May 2, 2016

May 2, 2016  
>The Malfoy house buzzed with excitement and laughter as they celebrated Michaela's second birthday. Draco watched the party from his bedroom window. The backyard had been decorated in pink and yellow streamers. The tables, which were borrowed mostly from the Weasley families, were covered in tablecloths, plates, cups, and silverware in similar colors. A unicorn-shaped pinata hung from a low branch of a tree near the edge of their property.<p>

Despite it all, he remained upstairs, away from the merriment. There was one particular guest he wished to avoid - his mother. He hadn't spoken to his wife since he found out she had put Narcissa's name on the guest list.

His back remained toward the door when it opened. "Daddy, Mum wants you to come downstairs. We're cutting the cake soon," Rose informed him, her voice timid and trepidatious. When he gave no indication that he had heard her, she moved further into the room. Father and daughter stood side by side, neither speaking as they watched the party below. She reached for his hand and whispered his name.

Giving her smaller hand a squeeze, he smiled at her. "You and James looked like you were having fun," he commented. "Haven't we told you it isn't nice to gang up on Al?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "It's a game, Dad," she muttered, explaining the rules of "monkey in the middle" to him. She couldn't help it if Al always wound up just out of reach of the ball. "Why won't you come down?"

Sighing, he moved to the bed and sat down, pulling her to stand in between his legs. "Your grandmother, my mum, and I had a bit of a falling out a few years ago," he explained, deciding she was old enough to hear it. "I haven't seen her since, well, before you and Scorpius were born."

"Was it because of Mum?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, this happened before we were together," he replied, not yet ready to discuss his past failed relationships.

This bit of information seemed to appease her, but not for long. "If I do something you don't like, are you not going to talk to me?" she worried.

Frowning, he pulled her into a tight hug. "I can't think of anything you could do that would make me want to do that," he told her.

Rose pressed her lips to his cheek. "Come downstairs, Daddy," she requested, taking hold of his hands in a futile attempt to pull him to his feet. "It'll make Mum really happy," she added when he refused to budge.

Finally, he got to his feet and smiled at his eldest daughter. "You just might be a Slytherin yet," he told her as she dragged him from the room.

Laughing, Rose shot down his wish. "I'm going to be a Ravenclaw," she announced. "Scor can carry on the Malfoy tradition of being sorted into Slytherin."

"And your sister?" he wondered as she slid open the glass door that separated them from the party.

"Hufflepuff," Rose teased.

Draco gasped in mock horror, his hand flying over his heart. "Don't you dare even think that, Rose Malfoy," he warned as they joined the festivities. Rose dropped his hand and ran off to find her brother. Even in a crowd, Draco managed to spot his wife as she set up the cake. He was making his way to her when someone stopped him.

"Will you never speak to me again?" his mother asked. Draco turned to face her, and noticed just how old she was. Lines and wrinkles had begun to mar her once perfect skin. Try as she might, a few strands of gray littered her blonde hair.

He merely shrugged in response, feeling like a little boy in her presence. "What is there to say?" he finally asked before walking away. He stood beside his wife and kissed her cheek. "You shouldn't have invited her," he whispered in her ear as she lit two candles. While everyone else sang "Happy Birthday" to Michaela, Hermione watched her husband worriedly.

"Please just give her a chance. That's all she wants," Hermione said when the song ended.

"Daddy, up," Michaela said, stretching her arms up towards him. Draco obliged. "You sad, Daddy?"

He pressed a kiss to her rosy cheek. "Yeah, I thought I told you not to grow up," he joked, accepting a slice of cake. He took a seat at the nearest table and shared his cake with his daughter. "Did you get to meet your grandma?" he asked.

Michaela nodded. "Gamma's pretty. I like her," she replied enthusiastically as he fed her a bite. "Her's sad too, Daddy," she added around a mouthful of cake.

Narcissa stood on the outskirts of the party near the door to the kitchen. Hermione approached with a slice of cake in hand, and offered it to her. Graciously, the older witch took it, though she did not eat. She looked longingly at her son, and sighed. "My husband was never like that with him," she said softly. "Lucius believed that coddling Draco would make him soft. What he failed to realize was that it would also push him away. I lost my husband, but it hurt more to lose my son. I've written him every day for year, and not once did he reply."

"I'm glad you came," Hermione told her. "Draco will come around. He's stubborn, but I know a part of him always hoped the two of you could work things out."

A mirthless laugh passed Narcissa's lips. "Gryffindors are terrible liars," she remarked. The younger witch laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. Draco approached the pair and handed Michaela to Hermione.

"Could we talk?" Draco asked his mother.

Hours later, after the guests had left, the clean up was done, and the children were put to bed, Draco and Hermione relaxed in front of the fire. "I realized something today," he murmured, brushing his lips over the top of her head.

"What's that?" she asked.

A smile touched his lips. "You're my best friend."

Tilting her chin up, she connected their lips in a kiss that expressed just how much love she felt for him. "I never stopped being your best friend," she promised. "And I never will stop."

"My mother and I...I think things might be on the mend," he said. "And it took you to set that in motion. Only a best friend would do that."

"I love you," she whispered as his lips descended upon hers once more.

"Always," he replied.


	20. May 2, 2017

One reviewer asked if the last chapter was the end. There is one more chapter to post after this one, and then the story will be finished. I warn you now - I cried a bit when I wrote this chapter. You might not because you don't live in my head (count yourselves lucky.) A lot of what I put into this chapter are my own memories of growing up with my grandma. The lullaby, which I may have used before, is one she would sing to my brothers and I when we slept over at my grandparents' house. Also, there's a little reminiscing between Rose and Scorpius that was something we used to do with my grandma. She and I would also watch Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, but I didn't think it really fit this story.

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><p>May 2, 2017<br>"They'll be fine, Draco, just go. It's your anniversary. Celebrate," Narcissa insisted, escorting him to the front door. He opened the door begrudgingly, and she turned. "Now, where is your wife?"

Hermione stood in the hotel suite's sitting area, hugging Rose. The little girl begged her mother not to leave, and Hermione almost relented. One stern look from her mother-in-law, however, told her she had no choice but to go. "Grandmum will take good care of you, and Daddy and I will be back in a couple of hours," she promised as she tried to dislodge Rose's firm grasp around her waist. "Tell you what - you, Layla, and Scor can sleep in our bed," she added, hoping to sweeten the deal.

Rose unwound her arms from around her mother and took a hesitant step back. Hermione pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved away. She and Draco waved goodbye before leaving. Rose remained rooted to the spot she and her mother had occupied only seconds earlier. It wasn't until Scorpius put his arm around her shoulders that she snapped out of her stupor.

"It'll be okay," he whispered.

The anxiety she felt over being separated from family had never gone away despite the years she had spent with them. Though she had few memories of her years in the orphanage, she knew that loved ones could disappear in the blink of an eye. And so she held tightly to those in her life. Scorpius had become her best friend, despite their rocky beginning. He was wildly protective of his sisters, going so far as to punch James Potter in the nose for making fun of Rose's freckles.

Rose turned in his arms and hugged him, whispering her gratitude. All he said in reply was, "To the moon and back." She smiled and pulled away when Narcissa cleared her throat.

"Come help me put your sister to bed," she requested. She held Michaela with one arm and extended her free hand to her other granddaughter. Rose held the proffered hand and allowed her grandmother to lead her to the suite's master bedroom.

After she was settled in the center of the king-sized bed, Michaela asked for a lullaby. "The one Mummy sings," she added when Narcissa began a tune she had sung to Draco as a child. The older witch glanced at Rose for help, and the little girl took the reins.

Climbing into bed beside her sister, Rose smoothed back the brunette fringe that hung in Michaela's face. Then she began to sing.

_Goodnight, my love,_  
><em>The tired old moon is descending.<em>  
><em>Goodnight, my love,<em>  
><em>The moments with you now are ending.<em>  
><em>It would be so heavenly holding you, close to me.<em>  
><em>It would be heavenly to hold you again in a dream.<em>  
><em>The stars above have promised to meet us tomorrow.<em>  
><em>Til then, my love, how dreary the noon day will seem.<em>  
><em>So for the present, dear, we'll say goodnight.<em>  
><em>Sleep tight, my love.<em>  
><em>Goodnight, my love.<em>  
><em>God rest you pleasant dreams, sweetheart.<em>

Michaela's eyes closed on the last bar of the lullaby. "Love my Rosie," she mumbled sleepily.

"To the moon and back," Rose whispered, kissing the little girl's forehead. When she was asleep, Rose and Narcissa quietly left the bedroom. "Grandma Granger used to sing that to Mum when she was our age," Rose explained. "Mum's sung that to us every night since I was adopted."

"She used to sing it to me when I was little," Scorpius added, having heard his sister's song. "It was my favorite part about staying with Dad and Minnie. And remember the tea parties we'd have? We'd spend the afternoon baking cookies. Then after dinner, Minnie would set them out along with the good china and we'd have tea. Sometimes, we'd even get dressed up. Remember that silly hat you used to insist Minnie wore? The one with all the flowers and ribbon we made with some of my mum's leftover scraps?"

Rose sat down on the couch and looked sadly at her brother. "We won't get to do that when we go to school," she murmured.

It was Narcissa who comforted her this time. "I remember your father's first year at Hogwarts. He, like you and Scorpius, was home schooled, and it was his first time away," she recalled. "I remember when we got to Platform 9 ¾, he begged me to come with him. For the first two months of the term, he wrote everyday. And then it stopped. He'd made friends, he became acclimated to his new surroundings. After awhile, he stopped missing home as much."

Scorpius took a seat beside her. "I'll be there with you the whole time," he added, "even if we get sorted into different houses."

"Thanks," she muttered. Rising from her seat, she turned to face her brother and grandmother. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

They watched in silence as she entered the master bedroom and shut the door behind her. "She always gets like this when they leave," Scorpius stated. "I remember when Layla was born, Aunt Ginny took her for the first night. But then Dad called up Mum and asked if she would take her. We used to fight all the time, and over the dumbest little things, but I think she felt safer with us than she did at the Potter's.

"I used to envy her when we were younger because she got to live with Dad and Minnie," he continued. "My mum is great, don't get me wrong. But it was just...different at their house. It was always so warm and fun. I wanted to stay there forever."

Narcissa shifted closer to her only grandson and kissed his temple. "You're a good brother, dear," she murmured. "You possess all of your father's best qualities. He's so different from the boy he was at your age."

With a smile, he replied, "I'm really happy the two of you are speaking again. And I'm glad you're here with us."

"I am, too," she said, cupping his cheek affectionately.

It was close to midnight when Hermione and Draco returned to their Hawaiian hotel. Narcissa was still awake, reading on the sofa. Draco greeted her with a kiss on her pale cheek. "Were they any trouble?" he asked as his wife quietly opened the bedroom door to check on the three sleeping children.

"Not at all," his mother replied with a warm smile. "I do worry about your Rose, though," she added when Hermione joined them.

"So do I," Draco confessed, holding his wife close to him. "She still hasn't actually told us that her Hogwarts letter came. Hermione found it in the laundry about a week after it arrived."

Hermione, who had said nothing since they arrived home from dinner, finally spoke. "Rose will be fine. Let's all stop worrying about her." Her words held a sense of finality, and confident that the conversation was over, she left the sitting room. Entering the bedroom, Hermione changed into her pajamas and climbed into the large bed beside Rose. "I hope you'll be okay," she whispered, kissing her daughter goodnight.


	21. May 2, 2018

Here it is, the end! Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read, review, favorite. I have a couple of other stories in the works, but haven't decided yet when I start posting. In the meantime, make sure to read _Starting Over_!

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><p>May 2, 2018<br>Twenty years ago, on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, a war was fought. It was war to end tyranny and bigotry, and two emerged as a symbol of the new hope their world gained as that night drew to a close. The lines between purebloods and muggleborns was forever blurred. Now, there were only witches and wizards.

Draco and Hermione Malfoy entered the Great Hall for only the second time since leaving in the early morning hours of May 3, 1998. Molly Weasley greeted them first, taking a fidgety Michaela from her father's arms. She pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks before returning to her family with their daughter still pressed close to her chest. Ron approached them next.

"Glad you came," he murmured, enveloping Hermione in a tight hug. "The kids are around somewhere."

Letting go, Hermione glanced towards the Ravenclaw table and spotted her eldest daughter, Rose. Beside her sat Scorpius. The pair had been placed in the same house; Scorpius having to force the Sorting Hat to put him there. She smiled as she recalled the letter he had sent only hours after arriving at school for the first time. _I'll take care of her_, he wrote, putting an end to Hermione's fears that Rose would be alone.

Draco slipped his arm around her waist, startling her back into the moment. "Let's go say hi," he suggested, inclining his head toward the children. It wasn't until they reached the Ravenclaw table that Draco let go of her. Rose was the first one out of her seat as she ran into her father's arms. Scorpius sauntered over to hug Hermione.

"She's okay," he whispered, now the same height as his stepmother. Hermione knew that. The letters Rose had written throughout the school year became less about wanting to come home and more about how much she loved all the things she learned in her classes. She wrote about new friends and the time spent with her cousins. Rose was happy.

"And you?" she asked, cupping his cheek affectionately.

"Glad to see you and Dad," he replied.

The kids switched places; Scorpius red-faced and embarrassed as his father hugged him and whispered an "I love you". Rose happily hugged her mother, seeing her for the first time since the Christmas holidays. "Where's Layla?" she asked, looking around the Great Hall. The place was packed with war heroes and their families; their children who attended the school were invited to the celebration also. Hermione pointed to where the Weasleys sat. "Oh, I can't believe I missed them! How on Earth did I miss them?"

Scorpius tugged on a curl. "It's the red hair. You're immune to it," he joked, earning an elbow to the ribs from Rose. The pair wandered over to the Gryffindor table where the Weasley family was seated, leaving Hermione and Draco on their own.

"Would you ever have thought, when we were their age, that this would be our life now?" Hermione wondered, watching as the older children greeted the extended family.

Draco laughed. "You mean did I ever think I would be palling around with Harry Potter and the Weasleys, divorced from Pansy Parkinson, married to a muggleborn, and the father of three children?" he clarified. Hermione nodded, smiling. "No. When I was 11, I thought I would be a professional Quidditch player, Seeker preferably. I would be married to someone who only loved me for my good looks and even more attractive bank account. I'd probably drink too much and my hair would start to fall out."

Hermione laughed. "So, then this life is better," she summarized. He nodded and leaned down to kiss her lips. "You should know, though, that I only married for your good looks. The bank account didn't matter."

"And my hair?" he inquired, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile.

Hermione ran her fingers through the silky soft locks. "A bit thinner than when we were kids, but still great," she replied.

With a mirthful shake of his head, he led her to where their children now sat. Taking Michaela from Molly, he beckoned to the older two. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said. Rose exchanged a curious look with her mother, but Hermione merely shrugged. She was just as confused as they were. They followed Draco out of the Great Hall, passed through the imposingly large front doors, and walked in silence until they reached the lake. Setting Michaela down, he took a seat on the bank and held out his hand to his wife.

"This is where we first met," he told her.

"I thought you first met on the train to school," Rose interrupted.

Hermione nodded. "That is true," she confirmed. "But this is where we first really met. It was the first time we ever really spoke to one another."

The three children sat down, Rose to Hermione's left, Scorpius to Draco's right, and Michaela in her father's lap. The sun had begun to set, casting an orange glow over the lake. Hermione told them of the night following the battle. It was the first time they had spoken of the war so openly. Wizarding history books were chock full of information regarding the Second Wizarding War, and the involvement of both Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. No child in their world was unaware of the part each played in Lord Voldemort's last stand.

"I didn't fall in love with him that night, but I knew in my heart that he would forever have a place in my life," Hermione concluded. "I just never realized it would turn out like this."

"Did my mum fight?" Scorpius asked, fiddling with a blade of grass.

Draco shook his head. "There were some students who chose not to fight," he responded. He wouldn't tell his son about Pansy's desires to hand Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord just to save her own skin.

"Did you really fall asleep out here?" Rose asked, wide eyed at the thought. "It sounds romantic."

Hermione laughed. "It was anything but romantic."

Once more, Draco moved Michaela to her feet and stood. He pulled Hermione to her feet and kissed her softly. "Where's our tree?" he murmured. With a smile, she led him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"There's a reason it's forbidden," Rose reminded them, panic in her soft voice.

"We're with Minnie and Dad, nothing's going to happen," Scorpius assured her. Ahead of them, the adults stopped in front of a large tree. Carved into the trunk were the letters D.M. and H.G. With a wave of his wand, Draco added three more sets of initials, S.M, R.M, and M.M, and sat down.

"This is where it all started," he said.

**The End.**


	22. Bonus Chapter!

So, a while back, I mentioned that I had written one chapter too many. This is the one I scrapped, but I've decided now to post it as a bonus chapter. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>May 2, 2013<br>"Pack," Pansy said the second she stepped out of the fireplace early that morning. Hermione and Draco sat side by side on the sofa as they read the morning paper. Both still adorned bathrobes and pajamas. Rose leaned against her mother's side, still half asleep.

"Where's Scor?" Draco asked, setting down his mug.

"Staying with my mum," she replied, her smile growing with each word she spoke.

"Why?" Draco could feel his patience for his ex-wife waning, and wanted an explanation rather than listening to her drag out the reason for her early morning intrusion.

Pansy wedged herself into the small space between Hermione and Draco, and took hold of their hands. "Blaise and I are getting married," she announced. "And we need witnesses, and who better to do it than the two of you?"

"Your ex-husband and the woman who took your place? Sure, it's perfect," Draco replied facetiously. He extricated his hand from her death grip and rose from the sofa. He picked up Rose and carried her to the kitchen to make breakfast.

When they were gone, Hermione turned to Pansy with concern. "Eloping? Are you sure?" she asked.

Pansy continued to hold steadfastly to her hand. "I'm positive," she replied. "I never thought I'd find someone I love like I love Blaise. After Draco and I split up and Scor was born, I thought I would just be the single mum. But then a year ago, Blaise and I ran into each other in the Alley, and I couldn't be happier. As much as I loved Draco, Blaise is just...the perfect fit."

"How does Scor feel about him? Does he know about what you're planning to do?"

Before Pansy could answer, Draco interrupted by calling them in for breakfast. The two women followed him into kitchen and took their seats. Draco moved around the kitchen doling out pancakes and filling juice glasses. When Pansy attempted to to provide further details of her upcoming nuptials, Draco levelled her with a glare that warned her against it. The quartet ate in silence; the room filled with only the sound of clattering cutlery.

"Why are you so against this?" Pansy demanded once Rose was excused from the table.

"You think I've forgotten the way he treated you in school?" Draco asked, beginning to clear the table. The plates dropped into the sink with more force than necessary. "You think I didn't pay attention to the way he would use you when it was convenient and ignore you when it wasn't? I noticed it all, Pansy."

"He's different, Draco. You say it yourself all the time - the war changed people," she argued.

"Last I checked, while we-" he pointed to Hermione and himself "-were fighting a war, Blaise was holed up in his family's Tuscan estate, bedding as many women as he could and drinking fifths of firewhiskey every day."

Hermione watched the volley of heated words exchanged between her husband and friend. The former Slytherins could both be stupidly stubborn when set in their ways. She saw the way Draco's hand twitched, as if considering reaching for his wand. Slowly approaching him, she cautiously took hold of his wrist. "Stop this now," she told him. He shook loose from her hold, but said nothing. "It's been a long time since you've seen him. We've all grown up. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's not good enough for her, for my son," he stated, staring directly at a crying Pansy. Having said his piece, he exited the kitchen.

Pansy sunk down into the nearest chair and stared at her hands. "He always thinks he's right," she mumbled. "Blaise isn't like he was at Hogwarts. He's loving and caring, and you should see him with Scor."

"How does Scor feel about him?" Hermione wondered, sitting down across from her.

Pansy shook her head. "You know he fears replacement. At first, he thought Blaise would replace Draco, but I assured him that wasn't true. So much has changed over the past couple of years that I don't think he believes me," she replied. "He likes Blaise," she added as an afterthought.

"Maybe you should wait until he understands a bit better," Hermione advised.

The raven-haired witch's shoulders slumped in defeat; both women knew Hermione was right. "I should go pick up Scorpius," she decided, putting an end to all talk of weddings and making mistakes. "He tends to terrorize my mother. Tell Draco I said thank you for breakfast."

Hermione nodded and watched her friend leave. Once the front door closed, the kitchen door opened. "Been waiting for her to leave this whole time?" she inquired, taking notice of her husband. "She'll marry him eventually. You can't do anything to stop that."

"Like hell I can't," he muttered. With a flick of his wand, the dishes began to wash themselves. Then, deciding he needed a distraction, he took over the task. Picking up a dish towel, she joined him and dried each plate he handed her. "I can sue for full custody."

Hermione immediately stopped. "You most certainly will not," she stated, feeling her ire grow. "You will not put Scorpius in the middle of this tiff you and Pansy are having. It's been years since you last saw Blaise. Don't you think it's at all possible that he has changed?"

Shutting off the tap, Draco stepped away from her. In their younger years, Blaise Zabini had been one of the few people Draco had considered an equal. He was no lackey, nor would he allow Draco to treat him as such. Both enjoyed the playboy lifestyle, but while one desired settling down with a family, the other enjoyed multiple women and long nights at the pub. Though his marriage to Pansy hadn't lasted longer than a year, he still loved her enough to want to protect her.

"He's gonna hurt her," Draco predicted, hanging his head.

Setting down the towel, she wrapped her arms around him from behind. "My friends said the same thing about you," she told him. "Look how wrong they were."

Hours later, as the couple relaxed in front of the fire with their daughter, an owl tapped its beak against the window. Draco rose to retrieve it before dismissing the bird. The letter was addressed to Hermione, and so he handed it over. With furrowed brows, she tore the seal and read. Breathing a tired sigh, she passed the note to her husband.

"She's done it," she told him sadly. Pansy had married.


End file.
